Silent Snow
by TheFox101
Summary: Postsixth year. A raid on the Burrow has gone right for Voldemort and wrong for the Order. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny have disappeared. Luna has been captured. Neville has been left alone. Will our heroes survive? Will they even want to?
1. The Beginning

Draco Malfoy sat in a hidden staircase in a house in Spinner's End. Carefully he put his head into his hands and groaned loudly. To say things weren't going well for him would be an understatement.

Had it only been two weeks since his failure of killing the Headmaster? It seemed like longer than that.

Draco had thought he was on top of the world, just two weeks ago. He had completed his task set by the Dark Lord, he was admired by all his other Slytherins, and he was about to get revenge on the do-gooder Potter for good.

And then it all went to shit in about two seconds.

It had all been because he couldn't do it. Snarling slightly, Draco punched the stair he was sitting on. He just couldn't bring himself to kill someone; especially someone who had been kind to him.

And since when did he care about someone being kind to him?

Draco snarled again and this time punched the stair with both fists. For the past two weeks he had felt nothing but confusion.

Draco cried out and grabbed his left forearms suddenly as it erupted like fire. His deep, slate-gray eyes blinked in surprise as the hidden door opened and the stairway was thrown into light.

"Don't just stand there blinking at me, boy!" Severus Snape hissed, grabbing Draco's arm and pulling him out. Unfortunately the older man's hand brushed against the Dark Mark on Draco's left arm, which was still painful from the Dark Lord's calling.

He felt like he was being squeezed through a tight bottle, and then he was standing in the middle of a large hall that had obviously seen better days. Several battered but triumphant looking figures were kneeling in front of the Dark Lord.

"My lord, the attack on the Weasley home was most successful." One of them was saying when Draco focused.

"Most?" The figure on the throne hissed. Draco forced himself not to shudder at the sound.

"My lord, we overpowered them. The Order could barely stand up to us." The figure talking seemed to falter, "Potter, both Weasleys, and Granger managed to disappear, but we managed to take a prisoner."

"A prisoner?" the Dark Lord leaned forward on his throne, the smallest hint of surprise in his snake-ish voice.

"Yes, my lord," another Death Eater said respectfully, "A girl. The Lovegood girl, to be exact."

The Dark Lord leaned back into his chair and made a motion with his hand. "Bring her forth."

Draco watched as a struggling girl in ripped Muggle clothes was thrown unceremoniously to the ground in front of the Dark Lord's throne. She was pretty; he had to admit, with long brownish-blonde hair and large, silvery-gray eyes. But the dirt and cuts on her face provided stark reminders that this wasn't a pleasure jaunt for her. For some reason Draco turned his head.

"Ah, Draco," the hissing voice came suddenly. Draco couldn't help it; he flinched. The Dark Lord laughed maliciously. "After your complete and utter failure with that Muggle-loving old fool, I expect you to work hard to return to my good graces."

Draco dropped to a knee, though the subservient act was edging at his nerves.

"I aim to please, my lord," he said silkily.

"Good," the Dark Lord hissed, "Then you will do well to escort our prisoner to dungeons below our feet. You have three days. Question her, glean whatever information you can, and then kill her when her usefulness has exceeded her existence. And Draco," Something in the Dark Lord's voice forced Draco's eyes up into the cold red depths of You-Know-Who, "Do not fail this time. Or you will suffer the same fate as she."

Draco shuddered at the implications and bowed. Fear made him grab roughly at Lovegood's arm as he dragged her out into the dimly lit corridor. He softened his grip, however, as they put more distance between them and the Dark Lord, until it was more like he was guiding her.

He looked sidelong at her out of the corner of his eyes, and felt an unfamiliar emotion as he realized the tracks that had made lines down the dirt on her face were from tears. It took him a moment to identify it. And it was quickly swamped by disbelief with himself.

Pity; he was feeling pity for her. Why? What had she ever done for him to deserve any kind of emotion towards her?

_What has she ever done _**to **_you? _A traitorous little voice in the back of his head replied. Draco shook it off, pushing the voice and the feelings back until they were shadows in his mind.

By this time they had reached the dungeons and a guard nodded to him, opening one of the doors so he could deposit her in rather more roughly than he had intended. Immediately the slumped against the wall and down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and looking much younger than the fifteen he knew she was.

There was something off about Lovegood today; something different than the scarce other times he had seen her – often with Potter and his friends. He finally placed it as she looked up to glare him hard in the eyes.

Her vagueness was gone. Well…not _gone_. He could still see a bit of a faraway look in her eye, but she was the most focused he had ever seen her in the few times he had seen her; for once utterly focused on the present.

"You'll get nothing out of me." She said quietly, but with such determination that Draco felt compelled to believe it was the truth. He felt the pity again and something else he didn't want to even think about identifying.

"I'd expect nothing less from a Potter crony," he instead remarked condescendingly. "Are you sure you aren't in Gryffindor? Your pigheadedness is one of their most identifiable traits, after all."

Her expression didn't change and her eyes never left his. He pulled back his robes slightly to reveal his fingers tapping idly on the hilt of his wand. Her eyes flickered once towards it, but then back to his face.

"You know," he continued, "I have much more forceful ways than just asking you."

"I know;" she replied serenely, "Use them. The difference they make will be minimal."

He pulled his wand from its sheath and pointed it at her, the words to the torture curse forming on his lips. And there they died.

What was _with _this girl? Why couldn't he just lift his wand and say the words? Why was it suddenly so damn hard to curse someone? Draco just stood for a moment and let the coldness of the dungeon calm his nerves. The Lovegood girl was cold as well; her teeth were chattering and her lips had a faint blue tinge.

And _why _was he looking at her lips?

Draco shook himself and growled softly, spinning on his heel towards the door only to stop at a faint surprised noise.

"What are you doing?" She asked softly.

He didn't turn back. "The Dark Lord gave me three days. He did not say I have to break you today. And quite honestly," he gulped and forced an unreadable expression onto his face as he looked over his shoulder, "you bore me."

She just looked him in the eye for a long moment before nodding and resting her chin on her drawn in knees. She was shaking harder now.

He sighed and undid his heavy cloak from around his neck, letting it slide to the ground and giving it a slight kick in her direction. He strode out the door confidently and quickly, as if he owned the world and everything in it and not as if he had just given his cloak to a do-gooder junior Order member.

He tried to shake himself awake from these feelings: he would break her, kill her, or turn her. That was that.

So why did it feel good to know she wouldn't be cold?

* * *

Luna heard the door close, but she didn't move. She had too much to think about.

Thinking had always been her friend. She could slip into her thoughts and be perfectly happy anytime, anyplace.

Except that right here and right now, not even thinking could disguise the facts. She had been taken prisoner by Death Eaters, and Lord Voldemort himself – he really was impressively ugly, she noted in passing – had sentenced her to torture and death.

It wouldn't do them any good, of course. She couldn't tell them much, and she wouldn't tell them anything. Luna Lovegood did not betray her friends.

She shivered a little harder and lifted her head to look at the cloak Malfoy had dropped. Part of her wanted to hold back – it seemed all too likely that he had left an unpleasant surprise in it for her – but she was cold, and not going to get any warmer unless she had something to wrap up with.

And Malfoy wasn't acting like himself today. The Malfoy Luna knew would have hit her with that spell and enjoyed it. This Malfoy seemed... reluctant.

Taking a deep breath, Luna let go of her knees with one arm and reached out, stretching herself sideways along the floor, until her fingers touched fabric. The cloak slid toward her, feeling no heavier than it should. Of course, with magic, that was no guarantee...

_I've made my decision. _She fastened the cloak around her neck, pulled the hood over her head, and swept the sides around her legs, curling up again. Hands tucked under her arms, face on her knees, she breathed in the curious mixture of Malfoy's scent and her own. And waited.

Nothing happened.

But though her body began to warm, her shivering did not stop.

"I can't give up," she whispered into the knees of her robes. "I won't tell them anything. I won't."

_But I don't want to die..._

Luna needed a miracle; but miracles did not always come in time. She pressed her face harder against her knees, not even realizing she was breathing in the scent of Malfoy's cloak in deep, calming breaths.

Slowly, breathing from her stomach instead of her chest – breathing like a singer – she did just that, picturing the two solemn chords that made out its introduction.

_Close every door to me_

_Hide all the world from me_

_Bar all the windows and shut out the light_

She bit off the t-sounds hard, overemphasizing on purpose.

_Do what you want with me_

_Hate me and laugh at me_

_Darken my daytime _

_And torture my night_

Her voice ascended the scale, then fell in skips.

_If my life were important, I_

_Would ask will I live or die_

_But I know the answers _

_Lie far from this world_

A return to the main theme.

_Close every door to me _

_Keep those I love from me_

She was amazed at the feeling she could put into _that _line.

_Children of Israel are never alone _

This theme had a different ending, upward-turning, hopeful. Though she felt only small flickers of those feelings.

_For we know we shall find_

_Our own peace of mind_

_For we have been promised _

_A land of our own…_

* * *

Draco was about to take a step back towards the chamber – and consequently Snape, and then back to Spinner's End – when he heard it. It started out so slow he wasn't even sure she was singing, until her voice rang through the door and into his bones.

He didn't even have time to think before it caught him. The sound of her voice entranced him so much he pressed his hands against the door.

_Just give me a number_

_Instead of my name_

_Forget all about me_

_And let me decay_

Draco didn't know her that well, but he smiled grimly. No one – _no one_ – he'd ever met did venom like Lovegood in those lines. Not even him. Not even Snape.

The image of Professor Snape belting out a musical tune almost made him laugh and miss the next stanza.

_I do not matter_

_I'm only one person_

_Destroy me completely_

_Then throw me away_

Her voice flew effortlessly to the high notes.

_If my life were important, I_

_Would ask, will I live or die_

_But I know the answers_

_Lie far from this world._

She changed keys upward and slowed down for what must be the final chorus.

_Close every door to me_

_Keep those I love from me_

_Children of Israel are never alone_

_For we know we shall find_

_Our own peace of mind_

_For we have been promised_

_A land of our own. _

Draco didn't even realize his face was smooth and peaceful until she stopped singing. With a sound like an angry fox he shoved himself away from the door.

_That song did not affect me_, he said to himself, and repeated to himself even as Snape Apparated them back to Spinner's End. Maybe if he kept repeating it, he figured, the words would become true.

But he knew what those words meant, what that song had meant. And Luna Lovegood made Draco feel something he had never felt before. Never knew it was possible for a Malfoy to feel before.

Guilt.

* * *

Thousands of miles away the curled-in tableau Luna was in was reflecting in a slightly larger scale. Neville Longbottom sat in the same position on a bench on the lane leading up to the Herbology greenhouses at Hogwarts. He was trying to convince himself not to cry into his jeans.

Unbeknownst to him, he was singing quietly under his breath the same song Luna was singing. He imagined it was stuck in all their heads now. Mrs. Weasley had certainly been singing it loud enough when she was making dinner just before the Death Eaters had attacked.

_Children of Israel are never alone…_

But that was just it. He _was _alone. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had just disappeared. No one knew where they were, not even Headmistress McGonagall. And Luna…

He winced. Merlin, poor Luna had been taken; captured alive by Death Eaters. A traitorous tear fell down his cheek as he stared at the greenhouse in front of him.

"Are you alright?"

Neville hadn't even heard anyone come up. His body jerked violently as his hand instinctively went to his wand. The position was awkward enough to send him sprawling onto the ground.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Small, cool hands helped him up until he was standing upright again.

The girl in front of him was small. She looked about thirteen, but a petite thirteen. She had smooth, dark skin and large gray eyes with long lashes. Her dark hair – an indeterminable shade between black and brown – was in tight braids against her head. The top of her head came up to his mouth.

"I'm sorry for startling you," she said quietly, her solemn gray eyes boring into his. "Headmistress McGonagall sent me to get you. She said it was time for dinner, if you wanted to come."

Neville nodded mutely but made no move to leave. She didn't either. It made the silence a little awkward as they both stood there. Finally she stuck out her hand.

"My name is Meghan Freeman."

Her British accent had a twang to it that he identified as American. He shook her hand, "Neville Longbottom. What are you doing in Hogwarts?"

Meghan raised an eyebrow. "Living."

Something about her personality seemed to calm his nerves and ease the hurt of his friend's pain, at least a little bit. "I can see that. I just haven't seen _you _before."

She smiled at him then, a grin that held more than a little mischief. "My mother is teaching Potions here now. She's replacing the other Potions Master, a Professor…Snape?" She seemed to know she said something wrong when he flinched. "I'm sorry. What did I say?"

"Nothing," he said, his voice cracking a little one the word. After all, she had no way of knowing it was Snape who had killed Dumbledore, and Snape that had been in the raiding party that had stormed the Burrow and kidnapped Luna. He sat down hard on the bench.

The wood creaked a little as she sat beside him.

"Want to talk about it?" She asked softly after a moment.

"Not really," he said, equally as quiet.

"All right," she replied. She stayed as quiet as him, watching as the last bit of sun sunk below the horizon.

Simultaneously and silently they both stood up and walked inside after that. Looking sideways at her, Neville thought he might have actually made a new friend.

Now if only the pain in his heart left from his old ones would disappear.

* * *

A/n: A little short, but it's just the first chapter. Sort of setting up for future chapters. Anne Walsh is the greatest person in the world, for supplying the first part of Luna's POV and the description of "Close Every Door". Make me happy! Happy authors write more! Leave reviews and tell me your favorite part! (There's probably not many in this chapter...) Anyone who hasn't read LwD, how do you like Meghan?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	2. The Failure

Draco Malfoy knew he was dreaming, in that inexplicable way that you sometimes just know these things. However, the dream was neither malicious nor frightening, so he was content to sit back and experience it. In fact, one would even say the dream was pleasant.

He was in some room he had never been in before – another sure sign this was a dream. The room was spacious enough with eight walls, each with a different banner with Hogwarts colors; two red, two blue, two green, two yellow.

_Very symmetrical,_ he thought vaguely.

The ground should have been stone, but felt more to his bare feet like a comfortable bed. He took a moment to glance around and then stopped, scowling, as he recognized the other people.

_Potter, of course. _Draco decided this probably _was _a nightmare. _And both blood-traitor Weasleys. That squib Longbottom. _There was a dark-skinned girl he didn't immediately recognize. _And, of course, the mudblood Granger. _

As if just him thinking her last name was a summons she looked over at him.

"Are you all right?" She asked worriedly.

_Why would the mudblood be worried about me? Or even _care _about being worried about me? And…why does she have a scar? I don't remember her having a scar._

But, obviously, she did now. Vertical, about an inch long, across her cheekbone. Self-consciously he raised his hand to his own face and found the same thing. It startled him enough that he jerked back. The concern on her face intensified.

"Draco…?"

She reached over and he jerked back farther…

* * *

…waking up in his own room in Spinner's End. It was drab, cold, and possibly unsanitary, but it was his room. Not that strange octagonal one. And Potter and his cronies were nowhere to be found.

Breathing a small sigh of relief he collapsed back onto his sparse pillows and immediately dropped back into sleep…

* * *

…right into another dream.

This time a girl was playing the piano in a closed room where he could see a library though a crack in the door to his right. She was playing very well, he noticed, and sang in a voice that was both strong and clear as well as familiar.

_And just why would her singing voice be familiar? _He lifted his hand to his face and found the peculiar scar there again. _Oh dear Dark Lord in purple polka-dotted pajamas, not again!_

"And from his heart grew a red, red rose, and from her heart a briar…"

Without his consent whatsoever his legs carried him over to the piano bench and he sat down, running his fingers over the keys but making sure not to get in her way. He was humming, the same tune she was singing to. She turned and smiled at him and suddenly Draco knew exactly who it was and why her voice was familiar.

_I'm _dreaming _about Lovegood now? _He thought angrily at himself, _I obviously have far too much on my mind. _

He was, however, a sixteen-year-old male; so he wrote off his noticing how much prettier she was when she didn't look like she had been through a battle as pure hormones. But would pure hormones notice how her eyes sparkled when she was happy? And how the candles made the blonde in her hair stick out like gold?

_Snap yourself out of it Draco! _He yelled at himself, but his own body rebelled as she leaned forward and kissed him…very thoroughly. And Draco gave as good as he got.

Draco had gone out with Pansy Parkinson, on and off, for something like three years. But _no_ _one_, not even Pansy, had ever kissed him like _that_. By the time they broke apart he wouldn't have been surprised if his hair was on fire.

She just grinned and leaned in to kiss him again and Draco told his more rational self to shut up and enjoy it.

* * *

He woke up sometime later to find the sky was still dark. His wrist-watch said it was 1:30 in the morning on the regular side and said it was Too Merlin-Damn Early to Be Awake on the magical side. He agreed with the second one, rolling over and falling back asleep instantly.

* * *

He was having another dream.

However, if this was anything like the last one he was content to enjoy it.

_No! No I'm not! _Screamed the sane part of his brain, _I can not, repeat; can NOT, be having dreams about snogging Luna Lovegood!_

But, self-evidently, he was.

And he was back in that strange octagonal room, with Potter and his cronies scattered, asleep in piles around the room, in such as way as to it would be disturbing if it wasn't evident that each body part was correctly attached.

And Draco himself had someone in his arms. Someone warm and cuddly and distinctly nice to be sleeping next to. That someone, upon further inspection, had fairly long blonde hair and long lashes and was nestled comfortably with her head against his collarbone.

That someone was Luna Lovegood.

_Alright, that is enough. I refuse to be having this dream, I simply refuse._

Obviously nobody, including himself, gave a rat's arse about his mind's refusal, as his body simply tightened his arms around Lovegood as she snuggled in closer. Soon her comforting warmth and the rhythm of the others' breathing lulled him to sleep.

_How can someone fall asleep in a dream anyway? _Was his last groggy thought before he rested his head on top of Lovegood's and did just that.

* * *

"Wake up, boy! Malfoy, wake up!"

Draco jerked awake with a start to see Snape hovering over him, giving him rough shoves in the shoulder. He opened his mouth to say scathingly that that was _not _the face he wanted to wake up to in the morning…

But a traitorous part of his mind supplied a visual of Lovegood laughing and smiling, implying that he wouldn't mind waking up to her.

_That _shut Draco up, but good.

"What?" he hissed instead.

"Only fools keep the Dark Lord waiting," Snape answered, alerting Draco to the fact that his arm was hurting. "You are not a fool, so get up and get dressed. Now."

Draco grumbled but did as he was told, and minutes later they were back in the hall. The Dark Lord turned malicious red eyes to Draco as he bowed.

"Has the Lovegood girl given up anything?" He hissed at the teenager.

Draco shook his head, his eyes firmly on the stone beneath him. "No, my lord."

"You have two more days Draco. Do not disappoint me."

"Yes, my lord." Draco stood up and hurried out of the room, down the stairs and through the halls to the dungeons. He cast a Silencing Charm on the door, so it would open without a sound and therefore wouldn't alert her to his presence before he wanted her to know…

She was sleeping. The way the shadows played, throwing light from only the small window and the newly opened door, and the way the shadows hid the cut on her cheek, she looked rather like she did in his dream.

A small twisting and pulling of his gut happened then. It was an unusual feeling, rather like riding a Portkey and Apparating at the same time.

Not that he'd ever tried that. He didn't have a death wish.

His cloak was wrapped tightly around her, its hood covering part of her face. It was too big for her, he noticed. Probably because he was taller and had broader shoulders and…

_I need to stop having these dreams. _

Because he couldn't even think about torturing her, not with her laughing, smiling face still fresh in his mind. Not when he still very much remembered that kiss.

_That was a dream, you idiot! A _dream_. As in, not real! Curse her already!_

He didn't. His body and the small traitorous part of his mind that had converted itself entirely to his dreams rebelled, overriding him and making him stow his wand back in his robes. Irritated and more shaken then he cared to admit, he turned on his heel and left again, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Luna woke to footsteps on the ground in her cell, but instantly forced herself to breathe in the same pattern and relax her muscles. Faking sleep convincingly was a talent she had developed perfectly. It was essential when listening to her dorm-mates chat and gossip when they didn't ask her to join.

The footsteps stopped and the person's breathing turned shallow, then fast, like they had gone from surprised to angry. There was a rustling of robes and a hiss, as if someone was debating quietly with themselves. There was a small intake of breath and then more rustling before the person walked out and slammed the door.

Wanting nothing more than to escape into her thoughts, but currently unable to do so, Luna sighed and allowed her analytical Ravenclaw mind to take over.

_That person was Malfoy. I can feel it. _

Alright. So maybe her mind wasn't _that _analytical, or even at all. She tended to rely more on feelings than facts; something her housemates had never understood and shunned.

He had obviously come in for the second time in two days to torture her for information. And for the second time in two days he had stopped short and left.

_Something has happened to Malfoy. Something to make him…grow up? Become regretful? Actually develop a conscience?_

Even she had to admit that none of the above sounded remotely possible for the person Malfoy used to be.

_But then again, are any of us who we used to be? _

It was a thought to turn over in mind as she waited for the inevitable return of Malfoy, or perhaps someone else, but mostly for the inevitable pain that was to follow.

* * *

Neville sighed and dropped into what was usually his seat at Gryffindor. Hogwarts during the summer reminded him a lot like Hogwarts during Christmas and yet not. There were no students and few teachers, but there was no cheer or happy spirits.

There was a soft thud as someone sat across from him and he looked up to see Meghan filling her plate. She flashed him a tired half-grin and went back to eating, obviously not that much of a morning person as she began wolfing down her food.

He heard steps as someone came up behind him. "Pearl, slow down or you'll make yourself sick. And this must be young Mister Longbottom."

Meghan scowled at the person behind him but her eating slowed considerably. He turned his torso and looked up to see someone who looked like an older version of Meghan behind him. She had the same dark skin, Meghan's being perhaps a little lighter, and the same hair complete with braids, though her eyes were brown and not Meghan's merrily twinkling gray.

She also had her hand extended towards him.

He went to go shake it and discovered his spoon still occupied his hand. She chuckled quietly and he sheepishly put down his spoon before shaking her hand.

"Neville, ma'am." He said respectfully.

She gave him a large smile. "Aletha Freeman. That's Professor Freeman when school starts and whatever you want to call me until then. And I know your name, Neville. You shared a hospital room with the boy who was almost my godson."

"Excuse me?" He asked politely, his thoughts whirling. She knew him? How? He'd certainly never met her before.

"I went to school with your parents and Harry's. And I dated Harry's godfather for perhaps a bit less than three years. If I hadn't been away when you and Harry were born, I'd probably be hid godmother. Did you know your Mum and Lily Potter were both put in the same room?"

Neville shook his head and Ms. Freeman chuckled.

"It was to cut down security. One of you couldn't cry without setting the other off. It was great fun to watch your father and James Potter trying to quiet both of you at the same time."

He smiled shyly as Meghan laughed. Inside he was pleased, though, because his Gran never talked about his parents or when he was little as casually as this woman did.

Ms. Freeman gave a small shrug when he mentioned that. "Your grandmother probably has her reasons. I'll let you two eat breakfast. It was very nice meeting you again, Neville."

"Likewise," he answered, in time for her to walk up to the Staff table and start her own breakfast.

"I didn't know that," Meghan said musingly, "You learn a new thing every day, I guess."

"Why were you living in America if your Mum grew up here?" Neville asked, to the surprise of even himself. Apparently he left his guard down around Meghan.

She visibly stiffened and he regretted his big mouth. Eventually she managed to shrug, mimicking her mother. It wasn't until that moment he realized the motion meant they were both uncomfortable.

"Oh, you know, this and that. Mum thought it might be easier to raise me away from the whole aftermath of the war, things like that." She didn't meet his eyes as he said it.

"Meghan, how old are you?" He asked, some inkling of an idea flitting around the outside of his brain. He quickly focused on her answer, allowing the idea to come forth on its own time.

She looked a little surprised. "I turned fifteen on June 1st."

Oh. So his earlier assessment of her being thirteen, and therefore four years younger than him, was wrong. She was only two years younger.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, but it was at that moment that his idea hit.

Meghan was fifteen. He was seventeen. He was born in July of 1980, which meant she had to be born in June of 1982. That meant she had to have been conceived _before _Halloween. And…

"Meghan…"

She looked up but he hesitated. The next question had a horrible lack of tact. He wasn't about to ask it.

"Yes?"

"Nothing."

There were a few moments of silence.

_Oh bugger it. I'm never going to know unless I ask, however much I'll probably seem like the only human born completely without tact._

"Meghan…who's your father?"

* * *

Draco was called to the Hall of the Dark almost immediately after he had slammed the door to Lovegood's. When he arrived scant seconds after being called, he recognized the Dark Lord's displeasure.

"Do you think I refrain from watching torture, Draco?" The Dark Lord asked. "Do you think scrying spells are not placed upon every dungeon?"

A cold, hard not of ice formed around Draco's chest. The Dark Lord knew he had yet to even attempt to torture Lovegood.

"No matter." The Dark Lord finished, and Draco nearly jerked in surprise but held himself where he was.

The Dark Lord stood up and walked around Draco, as if studying a horse for sale. The treatment humiliated the teen, but he withstood it.

"Did you know, young Malfoy, that there is a near-permanent shield that can be placed upon me just by doing a simple ritual?"

He waited until Draco shook his head.

"Of course you didn't." The Dark Lord's voice had turned cold. Well, _colder_. "You have failed me Draco, and for the last time."

The Dark Lord smiled; or at least tried to. On any other face it would have looked mischievous, but on his it looked abnormal. Alien. Sickening. _Evil_.

"It requires, of course, the sacrifice of a life. Or more like two, to be exact. And to be even more precise, it requires the sacrifice of a couple. A married couple."

Draco's mind raced to catch up. _Where. Was. This. Going?_

"I suggest, young Malfoy, that you get better acquainted with our young Miss Lovegood."

Draco's mind caught up.

_Oh no. Oh no. _

The Dark Lord dismissed him, adding the words "for now" which meant he couldn't leave the compound and was likely to be called back.

_Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no…_

He raced down towards the dungeons, his insides a churning mess of tangled webs. Metaphorically speaking.

_Oh…yes? _There was that traitorous portion of his mind. The one that had let out a tiny cheer when the Dark Lord had said he'd have to get married.

He had to get married. He had to get married, just to get killed. He had to get married to Lovegood, and then they were both going to be killed.

_Brings a whole new meaning to 'til death do we part'. _

Draco scowled and threw open the door to Lovegood's dungeon, his expression thunderous. He banged it shut again so loud that he was surprised the door didn't crack.

Lovegood's eyes snapped up to lock with his, wider than normal in a pale face. Obviously she had picked up on his distress. Mentally, he scoffed. A _monkey _could pick up on his distress right now.

Suddenly all the fight went out of him. He leaned back against the door, and then allowed himself to slide to the floor, one knee bent and the other leg out straight. He needed a miracle, maybe. Or at least a great deal of luck.

A memory washed over him then, something from one of his (numerous) dreams last night.

"_**That's not how you transfer luck." **_

He remembered the line and what had followed and felt heat rise up, a little, to his cheeks.

"M-Malfoy?"

He opened his eyes and met hers squarely. She had inched a little closer, whether to see him more clearly or to try and comfort him (fat chance) he had no idea.

"We're going to die." He said quietly. Her face didn't change and a small – very small – tug went to somewhere in his chest when he realized she hadn't planned to make it out alive anyway. "Both of us."

A reaction this time; her eyebrows rose and her face filled with sympathy. He scowled deeper. He didn't want her sympathy.

"The Dark Lord is going to use us," he said, still in that same quiet tone, "as sacrifices."

She nodded; in acceptance or acknowledgement he had no clue. But he didn't talk after that and neither did she. It was a big idea to wrap your head around, after all, that your death was preplanned and to be carried out in front of an audience.

Draco realized he hadn't told her about the other half, about them having to be married, but one look at her face told him the news could wait.

Perhaps all the bad news did not have to be dropped all at once. It was small comfort he could give both of them, but it was comfort all the same.

xXxXxXxXx

A/n: Another chapter of Silent Snow. It was nominated, seconded, unanimously voted upon, and approved. So I wrote it out and sent it along for your viewing (reading?) pleasure.

Also, I made a mistake last chapter. Draco said it had only been "two weeks" since he had failed to kill Dumbledore. He was really supposed to say "two months". Oops. ::smiles sheepishly:: I'll fix it later 


	3. The Ritual

Luna dreamed.

She was in garden – an herb garden – cradling a small green leaf in her hand. She turned and handed it to someone, a male someone, she thought, though she didn't look. He grabbed it, but her hand didn't let go right away. She tugged gently at its end, and he grinned and tugged back.

"I've missed you," he said.

_Wait a moment, I know that voice._

She finally looked, really looked, and her brain recoiled. The person sitting next to her was Draco Malfoy. But he...wasn't...

_When did he get a scar? He didn't have a scar before._

But he did now. It was vertical and about an inch long, across his left cheekbone. And he was smiling and friendly; he had warmth in his eyes and voice and comfort in his posture, neither of which he had in real life. It was as if Luna was a watcher in her own body as her mouth opened and spoke words without her consent.

"I've missed you too." She let go of the leaf. "You might have to stay here until after the Quidditch World Cup, you know."

_We look younger. Fourteen, maybe? **He **looks fourteen at least. What is this? A vision?_

"I know. But it's not too bad. As long as I stay out of everyone's way, they mostly leave me alone. And I know they're going to the cup, so I'll get to go anyway." Draco – _Since when do I call him Draco? – _frowned. "But Nott keeps talking about how hard it is to get tickets for the Top Box, how he and his dad were lucky to get two, and I'll probably have to sit lower down, if they get me a seat at all..."

"But you have a seat in the Top Box," said Luna. "With Harry and Hermione and the Weasleys."

_Something here is not as it seems._

Draco thumped his hand against his forehead. "I'm so stupid." He glanced over to the edge of the garden where a mousy boy was sitting sullenly. "You know, I don't think I'll tell him about that," he said. "I'll just follow him and his daddy all the way up. And when we get there and they try to tell me to go away..."

"You can just push right past them and go sit with the Pride." Luna giggled. "I like that."

_He's making me laugh? Well...the idea is pretty funny..._

Draco looked at the crushed sage leaf in his palm. "I like it too," he said. "I wish you were coming to the Cup."

_He does?_

Luna shrugged. "Dad's saving for another trip this Christmas," she said. "And I wouldn't have been able to sit with you anyway. So it's just as well."

Draco sighed. "I haven't even been here a week, and it feels like forever," he said quietly. "There are times I feel like I'm forgetting what the Den looks like. What the Pack and the Pride all look like. It's so hard to remember sometimes."

_I suddenly feel like hugging him. The Den, the Pack, and the Pride? Have I heard those terms before? What is going ON?_

Luna stooped to brush her hand against the tops of the green leaves. "You'll remember," she said. "Don't worry."

Slowly she felt herself hum, and then start to sing.

_Are you going to Scarborough Fair?_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_Remember me to one who lives there,_

_For he was once a true love of mine._

To her ultimate surprise, Draco sang the next verse,

_Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,_

Luna harmonized with him on the second line, weaving in a high descant.

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

Draco took the melody alone again.

_Sewn without seams or fine needlework,_

_For them she'll be a true love of mine._

Luna sang once more.

_Tell him to find me an acre of land,_

Now Draco added a low harmony to her melody.

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

_Between the salt water and the sea sand,_

_For then he'll be a true love of mine._

Luna was amazed. For the first time in her life, a dream confused and shocked her. She couldn't understand what in the world was happening, but this person in her dream was not the Malfoy she knew. It was the Malfoy she _wanted _to know, though.

She breathed in deep, listening to his voice, and hers, and the smell of the herbs in their hands. The final verse was sung together, first one voice taking the melody, than the other.

_When we have done and finished our work,_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

With her consent, but also without her dissent, Luna slid her hand along Draco's shoulder.

_Then come you to me for your cambric shirt,_

_For then you'll be a true love of mine,_

Luna got the distinct impression that only Theodore Nott in the far corner kept Draco from kissing her at that moment. The information both startled and warmed her.

_For then you'll be a true love of mine._

* * *

Slowly the image of the garden and Draco and Nott faded away. She was oddly reluctant to let it go, but it was replaced by another scene.

* * *

In this dream Malfoy was already laughing by the time the scene fully developed. It was the same not-Malfoy person as before, complete with the scar.

"I wish you could come to the hearing," he said to Luna when he'd caught his breath. "You'd convince them right away."

"I've been to one. When Mum died, they assigned somebody to watch me and Dad, and then after three months we had to go to a hearing. It was very boring. Just a lot of people talking and talking. Finally they said it was all right for me to go home, and that was all."

_I remember that. But why am I telling **him** about it?_

Draco laid a hand on Luna's shoulder. Luna turned her head to look at it.

"I'm hoping your luck will rub off on me," Draco said, taking his hand away quickly. "So that's how my hearing will go. A lot of talking, and nothing worse."

_Since when does Malfoy blush?_

"Don't be silly. Touching shoulders isn't how you transfer luck."

"Well, how do you transfer luck, then?"

"I'll show you." Luna stood up and made Draco do the same. She stood directly in front of him, took his arms and put them around her shoulders, and put her own arms around his neck. Then she tilted her head back and pulled his face down to hers for a thorough kiss.

"There," she said when they broke apart. "That's how you transfer luck."

"I get it." Draco looked down at Luna. "I think I'm going to need a lot of luck for tomorrow."

Luna just smiled and leaned in again.

* * *

_That was...nice. Really, **really**_ _nice._

For a moment Luna forgot that it had been Draco Malfoy she had been kissing as the dream faded. To be replaced quickly by another, which she hoped fervently was like the one before.

_Wait, I hope **WHAT**?_

* * *

She was standing in a bedroom she didn't know with several people she did. Fourteen-year-old versions of Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco – _Again with the Draco…well, he does still have that scar_ – and Neville, and thirteen-year-old versions of herself and Ginny, along with a small, dark-skinned, gray-eyed girl she didn't know.

Draco and Neville exchanged conspiratorial glances, then stepped out of the room together. "Ahoy there, Captain!" exclaimed Draco's voice in the hall.

"Ahoy yourself," Neville answered. "What're you doing here?"

"Mooching off your parents until the Ministry gets its head out of its arse."

"Going to have a long wait, then," Harry called.

"Even longer, now that Percy's working for them," added Ron.

The dark-skinned girl jumped up and ran into the hall, dragging the two boys into the room. "I'm glad you're back," she said to Draco. "Harry picks on me."

"I pick on you too, runt." Draco grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. "Ahoy, Captain, look what I've captured!"

"Avast, ye swab," growled Neville in his best pirate voice. "Don't ye know the best of the plunder goes to the Cap'n? This one's mine!"

"Oh, Captain, save me from the scary pirate!" the dark girl cooed in a syrupy voice as Draco set her down.

"That I shall, me darling – for I am a dreadful pirate, not merely a scary one!" Neville threw his arm around the dark girl's waist. "Any of ye landlubbers care to contest me claim on the wench?"

"Who're you calling a landlubber?" protested Ron.

Hermione leaned over to him. "It's who be you,'" she whispered.

"Thanks." Ron grabbed her arm and pulled, tumbling her into his lap. She squealed. "This one be mine, Cap'n!"

"Oh-ho-ho, red hair," chuckled Harry, stalking Ginny, who shrank back, warding him off with trembling hands. "Me father had a taste for red hair. Shall I see if he were a wise man?"

"Only one left for me," said Draco in disappointed tones.

_Disappointed? Not from the way you kissed last dream...Wait. What am I **thinking**?_

"But wait – she be the finest of the lot! You all be blind, to pass by this beauty!" He swaggered up to Luna. "What say you, little lady? Would you care to be the wife of a pirate?"

Luna looked him up and down, then took his arms and arranged them so that he was holding them out stiffly at about mid-chest level. That done, she swooned into them artistically.

"We have triumphed!" shouted Neville, grinning. "The wenches be ours! To the ship, me! Follow me!"

They left the room at a gallop, boys dragging girls, girls trying to escape from boys, and it wasn't until they were in sight of Neville's room again (since it doubled as the ship) that Hermione shouted, "Wait!"

Everyone stopped. Luna pretended a faint into Draco's arms.

"Unhand me, ruffian," she said loftily to Ron. "I would speak to you Captain."

"Oh, no, little lady," said Ron in an uneven pirate baritone. "If you be wishing to speak to the Captain, I must go with you, to protect you. For the Captain loves his ladies, he does."

"I can protect myself."

"Well, then, I'll go along for the company."

Hermione snorted, but permitted him to accompany her to Neville. "Captain, I protest to this shameful treatment of women," she said emphatically.

"Do ye now. And why might that be?"

"Because we would be pirates ourselves, if you would only ask us! You never had to kidnap us and carry us away – we would have come with you willingly!"

Neville looked taken aback. "Ye – ye would?"

"Of course we would," said Ginny. "We've always wanted to be pirates. But our parents wouldn't let us."

Luna stood herself back up. "I can throw a grappling hook and fight with a cutlass," she said. "And sing Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.'"

_Oh, this is too funny. We're all playing off each other like old friends. Even Draco...I mean Malfoy. Fine, fine, at least in my dreams he's Draco. In fact, I like him better this way._

_Being silly is good for your soul._

"I want to learn how to buckle swashes," said the dark girl. "Can you teach me, Captain?"

Neville frowned. "I must consult with me crew," he said. "Crew?"

The boys closed in. "No pirate ship has ever sailed with a crew of women," said Draco. "Tis something entirely new."

"There be nothing wrong with new," said Harry. "They look like strapping, sturdy wenches to me." The girls giggled. "I say aye, let them sail with us."

"But will the ship hold so many?" Ron asked doubtfully. "Eight instead of four?"

"The _Bounding Bedsheets_ is a sturdy craft," Neville declaimed. "She'll hold any crew you may name." He turned around. "Ladies, your kind offer be accepted! From this day forth, we be pirates together! Hip hip –"

"Hooray!" shouted everyone.

"No!" Neville looked disgusted. "Not hooray! There's no hooray in pirates! It's huzzah! Now try it again. Hip hip –"

"Huzzah!"

"Hip hip –"

"Huzzah!"

"Hip hip –"

"Huzzah!"

The newly doubled crew of the _Bounding Bedsheets _scrambled aboard their vessel, Neville shouting out nautical-sounding orders.

Luna couldn't remember laughing so hard in a long time.

* * *

Draco spent long moments watching Lovegood, who had fallen asleep against the wall just ten minutes ago. The smudges under her eyes when he walked – well he hadn't really _walked – _in attested to less sleep than he had previously thought, and she had to be truly exhausted to fall asleep after _that _little announcement.

Abruptly she jerked and hit her head against the wall. Almost on instinct he reached forward and steadied her. He pulled back as soon as her eyes opened.

"Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded, her eyes still on him. "Can I help you with something?"

She shook her head a little too fast, which made part of her hair fall into her face. His hand twitched for no reason he could fathom.

Finally – _finally – _she said something. "Do you have a scar?"

"Do I have a _what_?" He couldn't possibly have heard right...could he have?

"A scar," she answered bluntly, "Underneath your eye. Did you ever have one?"

Draco was shaken. It was the only word that he could possibly use to describe the feeling that buzzed around his head. She couldn't _possibly _know about his dreams.

"No." he answered finally. "A scar has never been there in my life."

_Absolute truth; I'm not entirely sure if my dreams fall under "life"._

"All right," she acquiesced after a moment of inspection that made him a little uncomfortable. The door swung open, startling them both with a loud squeak. Lucius Malfoy, his mask in one and his hair spilling free, looked straight at Draco.

"We need to talk."

Draco stood and followed his father outside, resisting the urge to look back at Lovegood for support and anxious about talking to his father for no reason at all.

* * *

Meghan went white, or as white as you could get with a dark complexion like hers.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" she asked, maybe a tad too politely.

Neville nodded, but secretly he was horrified he had offended her for some unknown reason. In reality it was a perfectly logical question: a child shows up with only one parent, it's natural to be curious about the other.

Except Neville was a little suspicious about who the _other _was. And if he was right, he would feel a lot more horrible than he did right now. He looked up and followed Meghan with his eyes where she talked with her mom in quiet, hushed tones. Finally she turned and came back down.

"I need to talk to you alone, because I don't know how much you know. Or don't know. Or need to know."

He nodded again and followed her as she led him to a suite by the kitchens and opened up the portrait of a woman in yellow with a password ("Pride"). He sat down across from her, in front of a fire, and waited. He was willing to wait for as long as it took for her to collect her thoughts.

"My father," she started suddenly, making him look at her; she was looking at the flames, "was in love with my mother. And then someone betrayed him. Someone everyone thought was trustworthy, and that person caused a lot of people a lot of grief and heartache." She looked up at his carefully neutral face and then back. "My father, as you seem to have guessed, is Sirius Black."

He said nothing, just waited for her to continued, because it sounded like she wanted to.

"I wasn't born when Peter Pettigrew betrayed him. I was only barely discovered. Mom was going to tell him on Halloween." She laughed a little bitterly. "How ironic is that?"

Neville knew he wasn't supposed to answer.

"So she moved away, because she just couldn't stand being here anymore and she certainly couldn't stand having me here. Everyone would know whose child it was and she didn't want their pity. So we grew up in America. My mum's father is from America, and his sister, my great-aunt, is still there. So we stayed with my Aunt Amy."

"And then what?" he asked gently when she stopped talking.

"And then the news came. Sirius Black Innocent!' it shouted. Except Sirius Black was dead. So they waited until my father was dead before they figured out the truth." She clenched and unclenched her hand against the cushion. "So I said goodbye to my friends. Just two really good ones: Beth and Anne. And then we moved back here."

"I'm sorry I made you tell me," he said quietly after a moment.

She smiled at him. "Believe me, Neville. If I didn't want to tell you, I wouldn't have said anything." She leaned forward slightly and kissed his cheek. "As it is, I'm sort of glad I did."

Moments later in comfortable silence she got up and grabbed a book off the shelf. "Professor Sprout says you like plants. Have you ever read this..."

* * *

Lucius led Draco up the hallway and into an empty dungeon before shutting the door soundly.

This was the first time Draco had seen his father since Voldemort had broken out some of his most faithful followers nearly a week ago. Lucius looked a little worse for wear: his hair was a little mad, his eyes a little haunted, and he limped slightly. However, with no small stab of pride he realized he no longer had to look up, but met his gaze levelly.

"Draco, son, I know the Dark Lord has a plan and that your participating in it will earn favor back for you. And therefore earn favor back to _me_. I want you to do it, boy, no matter what it is."

Draco opened his mouth to say his father was telling him to _die_, and destroy the Malfoy line, but Lucius cut him off with a harsh hand gripping his jaw.

"Do not talk back, Draco. Just do it. Are we understood?" He leaned in, "You can't get away from me."

Draco suppressed a small shudder. How many times had his father said that, when he was small, just before the blow struck? Except this time it was worse, because he knew it was true.

He nodded.

Lucius let go and straightened his robes. "Good. I always knew you would be a true successor to the Malfoy name."

Draco stopped himself from snorting and kept his face carefully neutral. _I'm not going to live that long, Father of mine. All the worse for you._

He led Draco back towards Lovegood's cell; the summons came before he got that far. The cell door swung open and a masked Death Eater pulled Lovegood out and tossed her towards the two Malfoy men. On pure reflex, Draco caught her before she became familiar with the floor.

Setting her on her feet, she met his eye and gave him a small nod of thanks, which he returned. Lucius made a small noise of discontent and Draco straightened immediately, grabbing Lovegood sternly by the upper arm.

Together the three of them headed to the Hall of the Dark, where the Dark Lord was standing in the middle of a ring of torches.

"Leave us, Lucius," he hissed as soon as the trio entered. Lucius squeezed Draco's shoulder hard and gave him a sharp look, as if reminding him of their little talk, and walked out.

"Welcome, Draco, to your death," the Dark Lord said, his eyes glittering maliciously. He motioned for Draco to step into the circle, and the boy did, only to be hit with the torture curse instantly.

He dropped, not expecting the spell. He heard Lovegood give a small shout, but other than that, nothing. The Dark Lord motioned to Lovegood, and as if by force, she jerkily came and knelt, helping him up into the same position.

"Face each other," he hissed, and they did so, Lovegood giving him a questioning look the whole time. He shrugged at her, knowing he didn't tell her about the marriage but unable to explain.

Next he made them cut their hands each and drop a bit of blood onto a white cloth, which he put gold rings into and dropped it on the floor between them. He made them place their hands over it, Draco's on top of Luna's and swear something three times.

"My hand in yours,

"My wand with yours,

"My life for yours,

"Now and always."

They repeated it again, and then on the third time a tingling sensation went through their entire bodies.

"_My hand in yours,_

"_My wand with yours,_

"_My life for yours,_

"_Now and always._"

The cloth erupted in flames, and left were two gold rings, which he instructed them to put on their left ring fingers. The Dark Lord was smirking the entire time as Lovegood went pale and her eyes widened as the information struck.

"Congratulations," Lord Voldemort sneered.

**Oh my god, what have I done?**

Draco jumped. The thought was not his, but was it...he turned to look, but Lovegood was not talking, though the words were in here voice and repeating in his head over and over.

**I'm sorry. **He answered simply. She looked astonished, but his attention was called away.

The Dark Lord turned to look Draco directly in his eyes, like a snake hypnotizing his pray.

"Your thoughts must be of me, and only of me."

Draco nodded stiffly.

The Dark Lord pointed at their conjoined hands and wove and intricate pattern with his wand. He said something.

A bolt of violet light came flying towards them, gathering around their entwined hands like fire.

In the last moment he thought of Lovegood's face, turning and grinning as she kissed him.

And his world exploded.

When his eyes cleared of spots, he saw he was against the wall. He must have hit his head, judging by the way it felt, like it was split in two. Lovegood lay next to him, her hands still entwined with his. She was conscious, and from the look on her face, just as confused as him.

The Dark Lord lay a few feet away, barely moving.

* * *

Luna was shocked for all of three seconds. Then her brain kicked back in.

The Dark Lord was down, the Death Eaters were gone, and she highly doubted the door was locked. She leapt to her feet and only realized she was still connected hand in hand with Malfoy when she was tugged back again. He was unmoving, though very awake.

She considered leaving him, but just the thought of the face from her dreams stopped her. She knew she'd be guilty if she left.

"Malfoy, let's go," she said softly.

No answer.

"Malfoy, let's get out of here while we can!"

Still no reaction; she slapped him.

"Malfoy, damn it, move!"

He looked at her for a moment and exploded.

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO DAMN CALM!" he shouted, slightly hysterical and still in too much shock.

Luna reacted on pure instinct, "It must be luck," and kissed him.

A small corner of her mind told her he kissed even better in real life, the larger part rejoiced as he responded, stumbling out of his shock. He allowed her to pull him along as she half-dragged him, until he realized he was slowing her down and started to jog to catch up.

They made it out of the door, out of the compound, and ran like their lives depended on it.

Because they probably did.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Luna's dreams are copied almost verbatim from Anne Walsh's "Dealing with Danger", the third in the Dangerverse quartet. The song is also not mine. It's a folk song.

And many thanks to the wonderful MercuryBlue for beta-ing this chapter! Whoo! Yay Mercury!


	4. The Deception

Newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva McGonagall, took her time studying the boy—no, young man—before her.

He had all the marks of a pureblood life, which was hard more in the psychological sense than in the physical. He was the kind of person your eyes could skim over in a crowd without a second thought: a little pale, brown hair, dark eyes, neither abnormally tall nor abnormally short, and still retaining a little of the weedy look he had had as a first year.

His name was Theodore Nott, and he had just come to her with an interesting proposition.

She had been more than a little surprised (shocked would be the word, though never admitted) to have the ghosts report Theodore standing in front of Hogwarts, however perhaps she should not have been. Theodore had always had a neutral interest in blood purity, not openly malignant but not allied with either.

_And now would be as good a time as any to test just which side he has decided to be on. _She flicked a glance at the newest portrait, whose very lifelike blue eyes twinkled slightly and were finally open and alert. _And thank you, Albus, for providing me the means to do so._

When he had discovered that she, his successor, was not as subtle or talented at Legilimency, he had provided her with a very old potion that allowed the drinker to see auras, as well as when someone is lying or not. It had been very helpful on several other occasions and would be now.

With a sleight of hand that few knew she possessed, she poured a small amount of the potion into her own cup of tea, before handing Theodore his (untainted) cup. The tea was now much bitterer, and Theodore now glowed a faint greenish blue: the color of unease.

"Why are you here, Mr. Nott? I assume it is not to simply have tea with me," she said finally, feigning innocence.

The young man had been studying his tea intently and now looked up to meet her in the eyes. His look said her ploy was not working and was not appreciated.

"I have come, because I know what Severus Snape was to the Order of the Phoenix..." Nothing but white around him, which equaled truth. He knew what he was talking about. "And I want to replace him."

Still white, still the truth, and still made her want to spit out her tea in surprise.

"Are you a Death Eater, Mr. Nott?" she asked bluntly.

He winced slightly, and his aura took on a shade of green that meant he was ashamed.

"I am," he said, nodding and pulling back his sleeve on his left arm to reveal a Dark Mark that was both black and relatively new-looking.

"Did you take the Mark willingly?"

"Yes," he answered. The aura around him flared the dark red of a lie.

_Why would he lie about something like that?_

"Was someone you loved threatened?"

"No." More red light: another lie.

_This is beginning to take shape better than I had expected, but also worse than I had hoped. He didn't take the Mark willingly, which meant he did not and does not agree. But he is being threatened, and that is a liability._

She wasn't sure exactly when the leadership of the Order of the Phoenix had fallen to her shoulders. Seemingly it had, all on its own.

"You do realize, Mr. Nott, that doing this will risk your life and the life of those you love? If you are found out, you will most certainly be killed."

Nott nodded hard, his aura taking on the violet of fear, but also the dark brown of determination. The determination overwhelmed the fear, however, as did...

_Now, this is harder to make out, but very important. It looks like...it looks like he might be sure he's doing the right thing. Time past to test and make sure the right thing is, in point of fact, the **right**__thing._

"Mr. Nott, are you loyal to Lord Voldemort?"

He flinched, but she thought it was more at the name than the question.

"No." White aura.

"Are you loyal to any of his followers, including but not limited to, your father?"

"No." Still white shrouded him. He was telling the truth. A small, hard knot of ice in her chest began to melt a little.

"Are you willing to swear loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes."

His aura remained white. Minerva allowed herself to relax more and twisted slightly to send a glance at Albus's portrait. He gave a small smile and nodded his approval.

"Very well," she said finally, and reached into a special drawer in the desk to take out a necklace that had been charmed to be invisible, undetectable, and binding. She laid it on the desk and instructed him to place his hand over it. He did so and she placed her hand over his.

"Do you, Theodore Patroclus Nott, swear fealty to the Order of the Phoenix and pledge never to betray them in any way or form, and, if you should so break this swear, to find rest nowhere, not even in death?"

Theodore nodded hard. "I do so swear."

The phoenix shone a brilliant gold for a moment beneath their hands, signaling that the oath had been truthful. She motioned for him to put it on and he did, settling it beneath his robes.

She shook his hand. "Then welcome, Mr. Nott, to the Order of the Phoenix. And many thanks for taking on such a dangerous mission as becoming a spy on Lord Voldemort."

Nott nodded again, his aura shining with surety of intent, and Minerva allowed herself the smallest of smiles. Finally—_finally!—_something had gone right.

* * *

Draco suppressed a groan. Nothing—_nothing!—_was going right today.

He wasn't entirely sure how long they had run, all he knew was he had been able to feel when the shields that held back anyone without a Dark Mark were up, and he had be able to get past them. When they had reached the part of the outside of the compound that he knew, Lovegood seemed content to let him take over.

Nothing was said for a long time. He made himself keep running.

Finally when they reached far enough into the woods that he could feel the Apparition wards were gone, he turned to her.

"Do you know how to Apparate?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head. Her voice was even vaguer than usual, maybe like she was trying to work something out in her head.

_Right, entering sixth year. Of course she doesn't know how to Apparate. Brilliant, Draco. Masterful._

He knew the theory of Side-Along Apparition well enough to be able to do it. Maybe. So he could possibly do it, since she was smaller than him, but first he needed something cleared up:

"Why did you kiss me?" he asked directly. Normally he'd be slyer, but this whole situation wasn't normal.

"You weren't answering. I had to do something," she shrugged, though she looked vaguely startled by the question, "I guess it was the first thing that came to mind."

He nodded, accepting it. For now.

"I can Side-Along Apparate, in theory, but I'm going to have to hold you."

"In _theory_?" There was a slightly hysterical note in her voice. "You can only do it in _theory_?"

"I've never had an opportunity to try, have I?" he snapped back. At least she had the grace to look a little embarrassed. But this brought about another question: Where exactly would they go?

"Hogwarts," she said suddenly, as if reading his mind, "We'll go to Hogwarts. Headmistress McGonagall will help us."

"You," he correctly bitterly, his face scrunched slightly in distaste. "She'll help _you_. I put one foot on those ground and I have a personalized one-way ticket to the island of Azkaban. Thanks, but no thanks. We'll go to Malfoy Manor."

It was her turn to look distasteful. "Wonderful idea, Malfoy. Slight flaw. Where exactly do you think the Death Eaters will look first?"

His train of thought skidded to a stop so fast that it probably left skid marks on his brain.

_She's right, we can't possibly go back home. I'm operating on the idea that Mother will even accept me, and she might not. She loves me, but Father is back._

**At least it looks like he's listening to me.**

Draco jerked and looked at Lovegood in astonishment.

"Pardon me? Of course I'd be listening at a time like this, I'm not so rude or uncivilized as not to."

"I—I didn't say that." She answered shakily.

"You did, Lovegood. I heard you loud and clear." What was she playing at?

"I didn't say it," she continued slowly. "But I thought it."

"Well, at least I know there's one part of you doesn't think I'm a complete worm—"his mouth stopped as his previously paused brain caught up.

"I can hear your thoughts?" he asked, at the same time she exclaimed, "You can hear my thoughts!"

It would have been funny if it wasn't a sign he was going insane.

She looked at him for a long moment, then:

**Can you hear this?**

He jumped again, but the shock wasn't so bad this time. Instead of answering, he focused on the opposite of Occlumency, on opening his mind, and thought:

**Loud and clear.**

It was her turn to jump, but not nearly as bad as he had.

**This is interesting.**

**Interesting? It's bloody insane!**

She gave him a look, and he got the vague impression of glare in his thoughts.

He glared right back.

* * *

Luna sighed.

_Well, Malfoy has become completely useful after about...oh, five seconds. That's a new record._

But then again, where exactly could they go? The thought didn't even cross her mind to split up: one, because she felt some sort of twisted loyalty and gratitude for him not running when the sacrifice was announced, and two, more importantly, the part that had converted itself completely to her dreams revolted at the idea.

So she was stuck with him. Wryly, she smiled. _"For better or worse."_

And _that _thought brought up a whole new can of worms that she didn't even want to _think _about.

Quickly she scanned the ground and found a log of wood not overgrown, settling herself onto it. As she did a small lizard hissed indignantly and scurried from underneath her leg, irritated at almost being sat on.

Luna stared after it and shook her head, marveling at how it hid in plain sight...

_Hid in plain sight? Why does that hit something in my head...?_

Quickly she recited all the qualities of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, allowing the thought to show itself instead of searching for it.

_That's it! _she thought after a minute. _Hide in plain sight!_

"We could hide in the Muggle world," she offered after a moment of thinking about how he could react.

"ARE YOU _INSANE_?"

Wow, that was _exactly _how she thought he would react.

"Well, some people have told me so, but frankly..." she trailed off as he glared at her.

**But frankly I just think I'm different,** she finished defiantly.

His glare intensified beyond anything he had ever thrown at Harry.

**Yes, that glare is a lot of use, Malfoy. I'm simply shaking in my jeans.**

She wasn't really, but he was. She could see his hands shaking before he stuffed them into his robes.

"Malfoys," he said after a moment, "don't need to hide."

"Oh, so your father is on vacation? I can see that."

"This is not doing any good!" he hissed, and she knew she'd struck a nerve.

"Well what do you suggest? We stroll into the Leaky Cauldron? I'm sure _that _will go over—"

**Shut up.**

She didn't know whether to be surprised or indignant. She settled on surprise, because something in his mental "voice" was deadly serious. Her mouth closed.

**I think someone is nearby,** he said finally, and she heard what he did. A loud snap that sounded much too much like a twig being snapped purposefully in two.

**I think you're right,** she answered. He nodded, and both of them stared intently into the woods.

"What happened?" a voice asked softly. "I could swear I heard voices just over here."

"With the amount of noise you're making, they probably suspect something!" another voice answered.

**Lovegood, we may dislike each other, but I don't want to die and I don't think you want to either.**

**Where is this going?**

**Get over here.**

She turned to look and he was crouched, one arm outstretched like someone expecting to give a one-armed hug. She didn't like where this was going, but since he was the only one who had Apparated before.

"I think I see them!"

_That _decided it for her. She was across the space between them and tucked into his side faster than you could say "Quidditch", the hesitancy to be close to Malfoy overwhelmed by the need to get out of there—quick.

Malfoy wrapped his arms completely around her, until her head was tucked securely underneath his chin, and then she was being squeezed through an incredibly tight tube.

They popped out again, just to be squeezed in again. They popped out and for a second they halted, she tightened her grip around him and they Apparated again.

With a loud _POP! _they ended up in a dark alley on a street of London that every magical person in Britain had been on at least once. She recognized it immediately.

"When I suggested strolling into the Leaky Cauldron, I wasn't serious!" she said, glaring at him. It was surprisingly easy considering she was still in his arms.

Quickly she stepped away and Malfoy followed, but it must have been her imagination that his hands trailed down her arms before letting go completely.

* * *

Draco was actually flustered for a moment. At first he hadn't even realized his arms were still around her and when he did he ordered his arms to let go. Thankfully his body finally listened to him, but they took their good time doing it.

"I'm not suggesting we stay here!" he said in response to her verbal barb. "But we can't just walk into the Muggle world and disappear! We need a plan!"

"So you agree? About the Muggle world?" She sounded vaguely surprised, but even he had to admit that it was the best plan they had.

"Temporarily," he acquiesced. "It seems to be the best place to fade into the shadows, for the moment. We can work from there."

If she thought it was strange that he always said "we", she didn't say anything.

"And we're not _strolling _in!" he continued. "We're getting a room for a night or two. Is that okay with you, Your Majesty?" He meant to put as much venom into that as possible, but it didn't quite hit the mark.

She looked down for a moment and then back up at him, nodding. "It makes sense. I need a new wand and we both need money. But we can't go in looking like this." She swept a hand towards her ripped clothes, and then at his dirty robes.

She had a point. He quickly cast charms to at least brighten up their appearance, then gave them both black hair.

The disguises wouldn't last more than a week in the wizarding world, where everyone was looking for them for one reason or another, but for a day or so they would be fine, and in the Muggle world they wouldn't stand out at all.

Walking into the Leaky Cauldron, however, was tougher than they expected.

**Act normal.**

He resisted rolling his eyes. **That's easy to say, not easy to do,** he snapped back.

**People notice tension in other people. Calm down.**

So he forced his muscles to relax and strolled more casually. Tom, the toothless bartender that was always mildly creepy to him for some reason, turned to grin at them. It wasn't a welcoming sight.

"C'n I help you?"

"Mark and Jean White," Luna said quickly next to him. "We need to stay for two nights."

_Lovegood is actually good at lying,_ Draco thought, _which is pleasantly surprising. Wait—she just said our names like we're together, and he's only giving us one room key!_

**He saw the rings on our hands, Malfoy, he thinks we're married. It was the only thing I could say. Plus, a newlywed couple is much less conspicuous.**

**You're listening to my thoughts! h**e said, outraged.

**You're thinking too loudly. Pay the man.**

Grudgingly he reached into his robes and pulled out his last shreds of money, forking it over to Tom.

During the whole excursion to Diagon Alley, they were never once recognized. This was good on all accounts.

After first stopping at Gringotts and drawing from both the Malfoy and Lovegood vaults, they stopped to get her a new wand. Then Lovegood insisted on dragging him to the Muggle world to get them new Muggle clothes.

When he protested her only reply was an exasperated, "To play a part, you have to dress a part, Malfoy. You can't just walk around in transfigured robes."

He would have protested had he not been wearing transfigured robes.

* * *

_Sharing a room with Malfoy, _Luna thought, _is harder than one would expect._

It's true he had been the essence of a gentleman, offering her the bed while he slept on a couch by the fire and leaving the room when she changed, but now they were both lying awake and the silence was terribly awkward.

Finally she voiced something she had been thinking all day. "That wasn't Voldemort's voice we heard talking during the ritual."

She heard a creak as he shifted on the couch, and then he answered, "You're right, it was completely different. His voice sounded—human. With only a slight hissing."

"Do you think something was talking through him? Or talking over him?"

Another creak and a groan, "I think it's possible. That ritual seemed to require a lot of trust. Trust is not something the Dark Lord is familiar with."

There was another loud groan as he shifted again and then a hiss of pain. Luna sat up.

"Malfoy, this is ridiculous. That has to be the most uncomfortable couch ever invented and it's obvious you're going to get no sleep on it." Wait...had those words come out of _her _mouth? Well, no way to stop it now.

She watched him sit up and put his head over the top of the couch. "What are you suggesting, Lovegood?"

"I'm suggesting, Malfoy," she answered, "that this bed is big enough for two to share without either of us being unduly bothered. It's not like you're going to attack me or something."

There was a long moment where he seemed to think about it, and then he got up, bringing the spare pillow and blanket with him. She slid all the way over to the other side and he climbed in, settling down.

She turned and buried her face into the pillow when he said, "Good night, Lovegood."

Luna smiled a little. "Good night, Malfoy."

He was the first one to fall asleep.

* * *

Neville was sitting in the Great Hall, laughing over a small joke Meghan had just cracked, when a slightly weedy-looking boy from his year that he recognized as Theodore Nott came running in. Instinctively, he and Meghan stood up and walked over to Meghan's mom (who he had been instructed to call Letha, but whom he only managed to call Ms. Letha). Coincidentally close enough to hear what Nott was telling Headmistress McGonagall.

"Luna Lovegood is dead."

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/n: Eh, nothing like a semi-cliffhanger to end a chapter! A smidge shorter than last time, but it was more of a transition chapter anyway. Thanks again to the wonderful MercuryBlue for beta-ing this, AND for providing the chapter title.


	5. The In Between

"Come on, Daddy!"

"Shade, you're going too slow!"

"Both of you calm down."

Even in her sleep Luna jerked, startled. _That was _my _voice!_

With a rough jerking sensation akin to a Portkey, she found herself standing in the middle of a room.

_Where am I? _Unlike her in other dreams, this room was slightly foggy and unfamiliar. Testing, she kicked the floor. _Ow. Not a dream. _

Glancing around, Luna spotted a clock in the far corner. It's hand was frozen on the nine.

_Not a memory, then. But what's left? _

_Vision. _The thought floated to the front of her mind; she pushed it back hastily. Luna Lovegood did not think many things were impossible, but this was one of them.

_I don't have visions, _she thought – to what or who, she had no idea.

**But don't you see auras? **

Luna screamed and lost her balance, landing ungracefully on her butt. She hadn't expected anyone to answer her.

"Who are you?" she demanded of the ceiling.

**No one important, **the voice answered. It was male and distinctly amused. It was also very recognizable.

"You're the one that spoke through Lord Voldemort, during the ceremony!" she realized. "And – you're the one that gives me poems sometimes. In bad iambic tetrameter, no less."

There was a soft whooshing sound, and the voice suddenly sounded as though it came from outside her, and close by.

"Hey, I didn't think my poems were all that bad," it said.

Luna turned and raised an eyebrow.

The man standing there wasn't very old, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, and he looked, she saw, a great deal like Harry, or perhaps what Harry would look like at that age. He had black hair and green eyes, and he was dressed casually in Muggle clothes. He was also holding something bright green and plastic.

"Is that a bubble wand?"

"No!" The man stowed the plastic bubble wand behind his back quickly.

Luna raised her other eyebrow as well. "Won't that leave a wet spot on your butt now?"

The man's eyes widened and he glanced behind him, then began to curse softly.

"You haven't answered my question," she said when he'd finished and waved a hand to dry the appropriate orifice.

"Which one?" he asked innocently, cocking his head to the side rather reminiscently of a dog.

"The one about who you are."

He motioned for her to take a seat on the couch and he sat beside her.

"I wasn't joking about being no one particularly special," he began, "at least not where I live. My name, Luna Lovegood, is Alexander Slytherin. You can call me Alex."

"Alexander…" she repeated slowly, trying to kick-start her brain again, "…Slytherin."

"Alex," he added cheerfully.

"As in…Slytherin, Slytherin?"

"One of the originals."

She was beginning to agree with the so many other people who thought her insane.

"You're not insane," Alex said, as if he had read her mind, which he may well have.

"What are you doing here?" she asked instead of responding to that.

"Truthfully?" He waited for her to nod. "Interfering. Its rather fun."

"Aren't all Slytherins…anti-Muggle, pro-Pureblood?" she asked delicately.

Alex shook his head. "My father, Salazar, and brother, Matthias, were like that. I never thought the ideas had much merit, myself. Maybe another time I'll tell you that story, but for right now I want you to pay attention."

If Luna had been drinking something, she would have spit it out.

"Salazar? You mean Salazar _Slytherin_?"

Alex looked at her oddly. "It _is _my last name."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty darn."

"Not about that." Luna administered a slight glare. "I mean, are you sure I'm not insane?"

"Oh. Well, same answer."

Luna was more than a bit confused. "But I don't – I don't get visions. I've always known I've been different; I can see auras and such, but I'm not a _Seer_."

"Not really," Alex agreed. "At least, you weren't born with it."

"Do tell."

Alex smirked at the slight bit of sarcasm she had put into those two words and then full-out grinned at her. "How about I show you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he made a slight motion with his hand and the room blurred, changing into a room she _did _know, quite well.

Her mother's workroom.

She felt a lump rise to her throat and swallowed a few times until it went away. If her eyes were a little wetter than they had been, Alex politely pretended not to notice.

"This is a memory," he explained when Luna had gotten herself sufficiently under control – "More specifically, your memory."

Luna had a feeling she knew which memory, and that she wouldn't like it. Sure enough, her mother was standing at her work table, bent over a book. There was a small _whooshing _sound to Luna's right and she glanced over; Alex was nowhere to be seen.

_How polite of him, to give me some time alone. _

The door to the workroom opened and closed, and a nine-year-old Luna came in. Real Luna remembered that she had had permission to come in whenever she liked, unless specifically told not to. Memory Luna didn't announce her presence, but her mother seemed to know anyway.

"Where are your friends?" she asked without turning around, uncorking the bottle in which she kept the potion she scryed with.

"Their mother called them home for lunch," memory Luna said. "Ginny invited me to come with; she said they're having chicken salad, but I don't feel very hungry, so I came in. Ginny was nice to invite me, though."

"Yes, Ginny is a very nice girl," Anita agreed, pouring the silvery potion into the bowl. "Ronald isn't half-bad either, when he remembers to behave. Will you miss him when he goes away to school next year?"

"He'll only be there for a year before I'll be there too," memory Luna said philosophically. "And Ginny will still be here with me, and Lacey Prewitt. And you and Dad will still be here."

"That's right, moon girl," Anita said lovingly. She lifted the filled bowl and turned to Luna, who was sitting in her usual chair at Anita's worktable. "We'll always be here with you." She carried the bowl carefully to the table and sat down in her own chair.

"Are you scrying?" memory-Luna asked. "What for?"

"Well, I thought I'd start with the Weasleys and your father's work. I doubt they'll mind if I invade their privacy just a tad."

The scry displayed the interior of the Burrow perfectly well, revealing Molly Weasley happily listening to the wireless and knitting, and then showed clearly the inside of her father's editing room, where he was working on a piece for the latest issue of the Quibbler.

Memory Luna gazed into the bowl. "Can we look at something else?"

"All right," Anita said, smiling fondly at her most unusual but quite lovable daughter. "Let's try for distance now."

She began the spell, setting it on the coast of the English Channel. Then across, to France. Farther and farther she went, through the continent of Europe, skipping from cities to villages, from fields to forests. It was crystal clear, every detail of the picture perfect. Real Luna felt a thrill of triumph for her mother's invention.

Anita suddenly stopped and shivered, then peered closer into the bowl. The scry showed a patch of forest, one where the shadows seemed to lie unusually thick and deep. Nothing moved among the trees – no animals, no birds, nothing.

Anita moved to fix her scry on a flicker of movement that she had noticed–

And her bowl exploded into a million pointed fragments, all shooting outwards, outwards towards her –

Towards Luna –

Anita dived at her daughter, knocking her to the floor, sheltering her child with her own body.

Gerald Lovegood came running in to find his daughter staring at her mother's bleeding body.

"She protected me," memory Luna said, her eyes wide with astonishment and confusion. "The bowl exploded. She protected me."

Gerald stared at his wife's body for one more moment, then gathered his child to his chest and began to sob. Luna wept with him, almost silently, as though she still did not understand.

Real Luna blinked furiously and swallowed heavily.

"I want out," she said hoarsely to the air.

Abruptly she was back in the other room with Alex looking very apologetic. She couldn't look at him, couldn't face him. Her vision was blurring and the back of her eyes felt hot. She wasn't supposed to remember this, had tried so hard to push the feelings back…

Arms wrapped around her, gathering her close, as she began to sob.

"My name is Sophia Ravenclaw," the person holding her said, even as Luna began to cry into her robes, and murmured comforting things. "And you're an idiot."

Luna knew the last wasn't directed at her, because there was a muffled yelp from behind them.

"Anne, that _hurt_! You're being abusive lately."

"You're being stupid lately," another voice informed him. "Why in the world would you remind her of that?"

"Emotional value?"

Another smack and yelp, followed by Alex's frustrated, "I just can't _win _with you girls, can I?"

"Girls? _Excuse me, _Alexander Slytherin."

"There's no excuse for you, Anne Walsh-Slytherin."

"Watch it, mister, or I'll go back to being just plain Walsh."

Someone snickered and quickly muffled it; Luna got the distinct impression they were being glared at. She pulled back and smiled thankfully at the woman in front of her.

"Thank you, Madam…Ravenclaw?"

The blonde woman smiled serenely. "Don't let it daunt you. And please, just Sophia." She grinned suddenly. "My mother is Madam Ravenclaw."

Luna wasn't fully ready for the implications of _that _little statement to sink in just yet. There was a sound behind them akin to a smack, but different, and both turned.

Another woman stood there in Muggle clothes, one hand on her hip, and the other clutching a rolled up newspaper, with which she was smartly smacking the snout of a forlorn golden retriever with familiar Slytherin-green eyes.

"Bad Alex," she said with more than a hint of amusement as she hit his nose, "Don't upset people if you can help it. Now go to your room…"

Sophia was dealing with a bout of silent giggles. Luna was very tempted to join he as Alex changed back to human form, his face very much resembling a pout. The woman, who Luna assumed was Anne, grinned at both of them, and then cocked her head to the side like she was hearing a silent voice before sighing.

"Your daughter got into the broom shed again," she told Alex.

Alex shook his head like a dog. "Classic. She does something wrong and Amanda is _my _daughter, but she does something right and its 'Look what my Amanda did!'. I have something to do, Anne; tell her I'll read her the riot act later."

"You will not, softy. Fine, I'll deal with her. No more making people cry. That's an order."

"Yes, dear."

Anne turned to Luna and, grinning, winked. "Voldemort thinks he's the only Slytherin heir." Then she vanished.

Sophia and Alex were both shaking their heads.

"Anne loves to be confusing," Sophia said to Luna.

Alex looked like he wanted to say something and then stopped, thinking better of it. "But that's not the point," he said, changing the topic decisively. "The point is, Luna, that that memory I just showed you wasn't meant to make you cry. When that bowl exploded, shards hit you and you were only saved because your mother protected you."

Luna nodded slowly and then flinched a little as Alex grabbed her arm to reveal the scar on her forearm: several tiny holes in the shape of a moon.

"They hit you here," Alex continued softly, "and they were covered in scrying potion. It got into your blood. _That's _why you see things other people can't. It's why you have visions. You are the only 'artificial Seer' ever."

Luna smiled wryly, a bit of her twisted humor coming back.

"You too can be a Seer for the low, low price of 19.95!" she said in her best faux announcer voice. "Call this toll free number today…"

Out of nowhere, she was smacked with a pillow.

"No fair," she informed Alex. "You control this dream."

* * *

Draco woke up rather pleasantly warm and rested in his bed.

_Not my bed_, he remembered as his brain caught up. _Not even the one at Spinner's End. I'm hiding out in the Muggle world, with Lovegood. _

It was then that he noticed his left side was warm and slightly squashed.

This confused him for a moment until he remembered that he had been attempting to sleep on an ungodly awkward couch, but had been offered, rather unexpectedly, the other side of the single bed by Lovegood.

Speaking of Lovegood (not thinking about her being hard, with her curled up against him like that) she seemed to be having a dream. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was almost time to get up so he stirred, instantly waking her, though she remained groggy for a moment. It gave him time to disentangle himself and crawl out.

_And God, how did we end up in that position, entangled arms and legs? Her hair between my fingers?_

Deciding to chuck the thought to the back of his mind, Draco dressed quickly in the bathroom and went down to order breakfast brought to the room. Something had to be said, at least, for the service; by the time he got back up, Lovegood was dressed and perusing the Daily Prophet in the small kitchen area, calmly munching on toast.

Draco helped himself to eggs and toast. He was sipping orange juice when Lovegood spoke up.

"Will you look at that," she said blandly. "I died."

The orange juice came flying out of his mouth, and he snapped his head around to look up at her. She was still staring intently at the paper, but her mouth was twitching. Looking closer, Draco saw that her eyes were sparkling.

He shook his head at her.

_Strange girl. Either I'm going to kill her or I'm beginning to like her…_

* * *

The paper proclaimed:

**Recent Prisoner of You-Know-Who Dead!**

Luna Lovegood, 16, presumed dead after week and a half

Suddenly, the front of the newspaper caved in a little. Startled, Luna lowered it. Draco was concentrating wholly on his meal, but in front of her was a scone covered in butter. Draco's knife had butter on it.

Luna fought to keep a grin off her face.

_Well, who knew? The big bad Slytherin still has some play in him! _

Her aim was better. The scone hit Draco square in the forehead.

* * *

Neville sat down heavily in the Gryffindor Common Room.

_Luna? Dead?_

It had seemed like just yesterday that the six of them were joking around in the yard of the Burrow. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, him, and Luna. How could she be dead?

The six of them had bonded after the end of fifth year, and each brought qualities to bring into the friendship. Harry was always around to help him with spells, Hermione with homework. Ron was always good for a good round of chess or teaching him the finer points of Quidditch, and Ginny was excellent at helping him solve his problems. And Luna listened to him and to everyone, without prejudice or biased opinions.

The couch dipped to his side.

"Neville?"

"Go away, Meghan," he snapped. He needed to sort out his twisted feelings of distress and anger, and he couldn't do that with her around; he had a hard enough time thinking around the pretty Meghan at _all!_

"I was just trying to help," she snapped back, her voice clipped.

"Maybe I don't need your help!" _I don't?_

Meghan jumped to her feet, gray eyes flashing. "Fine! Then I won't offer it!"

"Great!"

"Fantastic!"

"Wonderful!"

"Couldn't be better!"

They were both on their feet now, and Neville was frankly thankful the Common Room was empty. It was then that he remembered he was supposed to be in class. Meghan was marching off now, but she couldn't resist one last parting shot, leaning against the wall for emphasis.

"And thank you, Godric, for that!" she shouted.

That was what he assumed she shouted, at least. After "Godric," Meghan promptly shrieked and fell down a hole that appeared in the wall. Neville stared blankly.

"One moment we're fighting and the next she's down a hole," he muttered. "You have a mind of your own, don't you?"

The school disdained to reply.

* * *

Meghan slid down backwards for a while, until the floor abruptly dropped out from underneath her – She was deposited onto something soft and comfortable. Her first impression was –

_Red. Lots and lots of red. Either I'm dying and that's my blood, or I just found a secret passageway. _

She sat up. _Okay, not dying. _

"Meghan?" An all-too familiar voice floated down from above her.

She was sitting in a large red bed, in a handsomely apportioned bedroom. There was light coming from somewhere, and it showed her that the double bed she lay on, the chest of drawers and wardrobe to her left, and the desk and chair to her right were all decorated in red and gold, as were the walls and carpeted floor, but not in such a way that the room felt stifling or overdone…

"Meghan?" Neville called again. "Are you all right?"

_Does he even care? _she thought bitterly.

_Of course he cares! He's your friend. He's upset right now, because one of his best friends just died. That's why he snapped at you. There was no reason to take it so personally. _

The voice of her conscience, Meghan couldn't help but notice, sounded an awful lot like her mother.

_And it's right. I _did _take it way more personally than I should've. _

_But why? _she asked herself miserably, even as she called "I'm fine!" up to Neville.

_Why do you think? _All right, now her inner voice sounded like her friend Beth when she knew something Meghan didn't.

_You liiiike him. _Oh look, there was Anne.

"Is it safe to come down?" Neville shouted.

"It's okay!" she called back, and rolled off the bed. Neville repeated exactly what she had said ("And thank you Godric for that!") and there was a grinding sound.

"Hey, wow, this closes!" he said when he had hit the bed.

"Good thing," she told him. "I think everyone would notice a large hole in the wall."

"True."

And how was it that they went so smoothly from fighting to getting along? Either way, she still felt guilty. Sticking her hands into her robes, Meghan looked down at her feet miserably.

"I'm sorry."

Her head snapped up. Her words had been echoed by another, and Neville looked as guilty as she felt.

"What're you sorry for?" she asked him.

"For snapping at you," Neville replied softly. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No," she said, going over to sit down next to him on the bed. "I'm sorry. I overreacted. You just lost your friend, Neville. You have every right to be angry at the world."

"I am," he said, and she looked down. His hand covered hers on the bed, and his other brought her chin up to look at him. "Mad at the world. Not at you."

She smiled and he grinned back.

"I'm glad we're friends again," he told her.

Her smile broadened; she was glad they were friends again too.

_But what if I want to be more than friends? _asked a small, traitorous part of her brain.

Next time she wrote to her friends in America, she planned on complaining to them. Their snarky comments becoming her inner voice was somewhat more than she could handle.

Neville looked a little taken aback, and it wasn't until then that she realized she had said that other bit out loud.

_Or maybe, _she corrected as he smiled shyly, leaned forward, and placed his lips to hers, _I'll thank them. _

Either way, further thought was unnecessary.

* * *

A/n: A little delayed, but here nonetheless. I owe the beta of this chater to oremanj. Go read his story Twist of Time (it's AWESOME!).

Disclaimer: I own nothing, including the title of book seven (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows! Oh My God!)


	6. The Child

"It's something I'd rather not think about."

"There's always something people would rather not think about, Headmistress McGonagall," the woman Auror replied shortly. "The killing of a young girl is a terrible thing, but I'm going to need you to tell me all you know about Luna Lovegood."

Minerva closed her eyes for a second, the only weakness she let show, and then quickly turned her face to stone. The news Theodore Nott had delivered struck her to the core. As much as she'd like not to think about it, she knew she must.

"Luna was always a nice girl," she answered Auror Halcyon. "She never had any detentions, always did well in classes."

Halcyon let a smile ghost over her face with the Headmistress's preoccupation with the girl's academic record and flipped back a page on her surprisingly Muggle notepad. "Ravenclaw, correct?" She shook her head sadly at McGonagall's nod. "Only sixteen. It's absolutely horrible."

_Do I really want to ask this question?_ Minerva questioned herself, but knew in that moment that she would never rest until she knew.

"Have you found her body?" she asked quietly.

Auror Halcyon dropped her eyes for a moment and then lifted them again, which was all the answer that she needed, but Halcyon answered anyway. "No, we've found nothing. However, we rarely find one in these kinds of cases."

Minerva nodded sadly. "Has anyone informed her father?"

Halcyon nodded and Minerva swallowed tightly. _The poor man. First his wife and now his daughter…_She resolved that moment to visit Gerald Lovegood in the next couple of days.

One of the portraits on the wall cleared its throat and she turned. "Don't forget your one o'clock class, Headmistress," the woman in it reminded her – she had brown hair with streaks of silver that framed her pleasant countenance, and wore sunny yellow robes that seemed to match her sunny disposition.

Minerva nodded. "Thank you," she replied, looking at Halcyon as she stood up. "Are we done here, Auror Halcyon?"

When the other woman hesitated, Minerva sat back down again and smoothed her robe, indicating the Auror could go on.

"I need you to tell me all you can about Draco Malfoy," Halcyon continued.

Minerva scrunched her brow in confusion. "Malfoy? There's not much I can tell about you that you don't already know from the investigation of Albus' death," she answered slowly.

Halcyon inclined her head to the portrait of Dumbledore behind Minerva and then answered her. "I know, but I don't want information so much as…your impression of him, I guess is the right term I'm looking for."

"A bit of a troublemaker," Minerva answered after a few moments of careful contemplation. "He was generally viewed as the unofficial 'leader' of his year in Slytherin, and then, as he got older, all of Slytherin. I knew he was probably headed down a dark path, but I don't think he had it in him to kill anyone. Most of the trouble he made was with Harry and his friends, and the Gryffindors of course."

Halcyon nodded vaguely, as if Minerva had given her something to think about. "Thank you, Professor. It's always nice to speak with you."

"And with you, Leticia," Minerva answered, and then lifted an eyebrow. "You always were a good student. Especially human to animal Transfiguration, if I remember correctly."

Leticia Halcyon – more often called Let – smiled fully this time. "Good of you to remember, Professor," she said neutrally, though the twinkle in her eye suggested that she remembered much of the mischief she caused with her talent at it.

Minerva stood again and walked with Let to the fireplace. "Now if you excuse me Auror Halcyon, I have a class to teach." She gave Let her first full smile since the magical officer had stepped into her office. "Seventh year. Human to animal Transfiguration."

Let smiled, shouted "Ministry of Magic, Auror Headquarters," into the fire, and was gone.

* * *

Luckily for Draco and Luna, there was a building just outside London, where the owner, a chipper woman named Lauren Bennett, informed them she had a one-bedroom flat for rent.

"Cheap, too!" she chirruped cheerfully. "Only a hundred pounds a month!"

_A hundred pounds? A hundred pounds of **what**? _Draco thought, startled.

He looked confused for a moment and opened his mouth, but Luna put her hand on his arm to quiet him; she knew that he didn't understand Muggle money, and it was better to not have any rumors about them. They wanted the image of normalcy: a young, recently married couple living and working in London. What would happen after the fuss about them had died down was a problem for another day.

Ms. Bennett saw the hand on the arm, and their wedding bands, and smiled warmly. "Just married?"

Luna smiled prettily and moved her hand to wrap around his arm, in a carefully practiced loving gesture. Draco felt something tug forcefully at his heart, but instead of trying to puzzle into it, he fell back mentally and let instinct and the part of him fully conformed to his dreams take over, smiling down at her warmly. Letting the dream part of him take over must have worked better than he expected, because it seemed he looked the image of a besotted husband as Ms. Bennett smiled wider. Luna, on the other hand, blinked in surprise before smiling back at him.

The room was simply furnished: drapes of a neutral beige, walls white, a small television and a couch in the living room, a small kitchen area with a stove and a refrigerator, and a good-sized bed with green covers. He and Luna inspected the flat for a little while as Ms. Bennett waited patiently.

**What do you think? **he asked her silently as he lingered in the kitchenette and she inspected the bathroom.

**I think it'll be perfect. **

**Well, if you say so... **Draco had already come to the conclusion that the flat, located a few blocks from a busy area that provided lots of job opportunities, as well as quick access to Diagon Alley if they needed it, was ideal for their needs. "We'll take it," he said aloud to Ms. Bennett, and Luna joined them and handed over a wad of Muggle money that he couldn't have made sense of if he tried.

Once Ms. Bennett had left he turned around and faced another dilemma.

"So I'm sleeping on the couch tonight, then?" he asked.

He thought Luna might have pinked slightly before she turned around and started making a list of the things they would need to buy. "Married couples don't sleep in separate rooms," she said finally, her handwriting a little sloppy.

Draco smiled. "What's the matter, Luna?" he asked, deliberately using her first name. He stepped closer. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Luna spun around and said heatedly, "No, you don't make me…" she stopped when she found his face mere inches from her own. Involuntarily, her eyes flickered to his lips. "…uncomfortable."

He smiled wider as she said the last word breathlessly. "So you're saying I don't have any effect on you at all?" he asked as he smoothly planted both hands on the counter on either side of her, effectively trapping her between his arms.

"None," she answered, defiant but still breathless. She lifted her chin boldly, "In fact, you could kiss me right now, and I wouldn't feel a thing."

"Oh, really?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, real – " she was cut off by his lips planted softly against hers. He pulled back a second later. "See?" she squeaked. "Nothing."

"Yeah," he answered softly, though his lips were tingling. "Me neither."

"Well I'm not surprised, if that's the best you can kiss."

Draco frowned at her. "That's not the best I can kiss!" His arms slackened and dropped back to his sides as she turned around and went on writing. Her shoulders were shaking and after a moment, he worried he had crossed a line. He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around. "Luna?"

His worry evaporated when he saw her shakes were not tears, but laughter.

"You were taking the mickey out of me!" he yelped indignantly, which only made her laugh harder.

* * *

If it wasn't immediately after it had actually taken place, it was too soon, in Neville's opinion, that all of Gryffindor knew that Meghan Freeman was dating Neville Longbottom. They didn't have any classes together, she being two years below him, but they spent a lot of time on the grounds and in the greenhouses. Meghan was one of the only people Neville knew who didn't laugh at him for his fascination in plants or tease him that he should have been in Hufflepuff; she always listened, no matter what he was talking about, and he liked to make her laugh.

He was making her laugh now, in fact, as they sat together on a couch by the fire in the common room and he retold the story of that fateful train ride in Fifth Year when his _mimbulus mimbletonia_ spurted everywhere.

"And she walked in _right then?_" Meghan asked, clutching her side in laughter. "That's priceless."

Neville nodded, smiling. "Poor Harry. He had such a crush on Cho then, and he was covered in this horrid smelling goop…"

It was this moment, as Meg was laughing harder at his description of Harry's face, that the portrait hole swung open and two people came in: one welcome, one not-so-much. Neville jumped to his feet immediately at the sight of the second person—if he'd had a hat he would have taken it off and held it in his hands. As it was, he shifted on his feet awkwardly.

"Good afternoon, Gram," he said in tones of utmost respect, reaching up instinctively to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes. While his grandmother had been approving of how he had slimmed down over the summer, she had _not _approved of him letting his hair grow a little longer. Neville did it anyway; his small rebellion.

_Besides, _he thought with a mental smirk, _Meghan likes it. _

Augusta Longbottom looked him up and down piercingly and then gave him a small smile. "Hello, Neville. Professor Freeman, here, was just telling me about your remarkable improvement in Potions and I must say I'm impressed."

"Good afternoon, Professor Freeman," he added to Meghan's mother as Miss Letha gave him a warm smile. His guard didn't rise until it faded and she shrugged a little, an uncomfortable gesture that she shared with her daughter.

"Is something wrong?" he asked politely.

His Gram cleared her throat uncomfortably and then went over to him and, to his great surprise, put a hand on his shoulder. "Neville, dear, it's about your parents. They're getting…well, they're getting worse, and I thought you'd like to see them now that school is out for Christmas holiday."

Any other thoughts that Neville had about Christmas break disappeared, instead replaced by the sensation that the room was spinning. His parents? Getting worse? It wasn't possible. Abruptly the room stopped spinning and he felt a comforting presence at his side; almost instinctively he grabbed Meghan's hand and she gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Can Meghan come?" he asked softly.

His Gram looked at Meghan appraisingly for a moment, then at Miss Letha – who nodded her consent – and then agreed.

* * *

"Luna, why are we doing this?" Draco asked mildly, allowing himself to be pulled along the Muggle street, which was lit in the spirit of the season.

"To keep up with what we're doing," Luna answered firmly, leading him to a corner where Christmas trees for sale stood. "What people don't celebrate Christmas?"

Draco lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. Aloud, anyway.

**My family doesn't celebrate Christmas. **

The only visible response was, for a brief moment, the flash of – something – in Luna's eyes. **My opinions on your family are not fit for any kind of conversation. **

Mentally and aloud, he chuckled, which made her half-turn and smile at him. They had been getting along remarkably well lately, Draco reminisced as Luna inspected each tree carefully. Luna was better company than anyone in Slytherin had ever been; unique and warm. Her zaniness was in direct contrast to his way of being down-to-earth, but she laughed at herself.

_Luna is, _he thought, _a remarkable person. _

**Why, thank you. **

**Luna**he thought again, this time intentionally making his thoughts 'loud,' **is also a spy!**

**Draco thinks too loud, **was her answer before her head appeared around a nearby tree and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Having her in his head also wasn't very bad, because they never actually spied on one another, and if there were thoughts they didn't want the other to 'hear' they simply put up a sort of mental wall with a metaphorical 'Keep Out' sign on it. The walls were never actually very strong, but it was what they symbolized, really. So far, each of them had respected the walls whenever they were erected. Because honestly, sometimes a man needed his privacy!

**And when you're a man, I'll give you privacy. **

He was all set to be indignant until he heard her giggle, and instead shook his head. It was almost impossible to stay mad at Luna when she was like this.

She picked out the tree, he informed the man selling them where it was to be delivered, and she grabbed his hand again and led him farther down the street to a small store, where they picked up boxes of tinsel, lights, and silver and gold ornaments. They were all set to head back—Draco carrying boxes, Luna carrying bags—when she spotted something. A "Help Wanted' sign in a local bookstore window. They went in and, ten minutes later, Luna was hired to start the next week.

"One job down," she said happily, "none to go."

Draco had already gotten a job as a busboy at a local diner. "Yes, fine, be happy you got a better job than I did," he said grumpily.

"I am!"

He glared at her until she grinned at him, and then he just shook his head again.

"Something tells me life with you is going to be interesting, Luna," he said mischievously. He watched for her reaction, but she wasn't listening. Her eyes were fixed over his shoulder and narrowed into slits. "Luna?" He turned to see what she was looking at.

A girl who looked to be only two and a half at the most, give or take a few months, and very unsure of herself, stood in the shadow of the alley close to them, watching the children playing in the snow nearby with something close to envy. She was skinny and pale, and the shadows around her deep-set blue eyes did not look like they were all from lack of sleep. There was an old black eye, a newer bruise on one cheekbone, and a scabbed cut along her nose. Her matted hair might be blond if it were clean.

Draco turned to look at Luna again, but she wasn't where he left her. She had crossed the short distance and was kneeling in front of the girl, who had backed away fearfully and gazed up at her with her thumb in her mouth.

"Hello," Luna said softly, "My name is Luna. What's yours?"

The girl hesitated for a moment, then took her thumb out of her mouth and answered, "Irene."

"That's a pretty name. Where's your Mommy and Daddy, Irene?"

"I dunno," Irene whispered. "Mommy left an' Daddy yells."

Draco felt his heart start to go out to the little girl and he knelt down, carefully putting his boxes down. Irene shrank away from him and pressed close to Luna and he drew back a little, startled. He reached out to touch Luna's mind with his and almost shouted at the rage and anger he felt there.

**Does she think I'm going to hit her? **he asked.

**I have a very bad feeling that that is a logical way of thinking for her. **

He was half a second late in catching up to the way she was thinking as Irene let Luna scoop her up and hold her close.

"Luna, no. We…we can't," he whispered, so low that Irene wouldn't hear him as she laid her head on Luna's shoulder.

"And what are we supposed to do, Draco?" Luna whispered back. "Leave her here? Bring her to an orphanage?"

"Luna, we have people _looking _for us!" he said, louder than he meant to, and then lowered his voice again. "We can't just – just _take in _a child."

"Why not?" Luna asked. "It'll just strengthen our story! We can say she was staying with my parents until we got settled, we can clean her up with magic right here…"

She was making sense – _too much _sense for Draco. He still reacted in time when Luna put her bags into his arms and stepped into the alley fully, pulling her wand. A few flicks made Irene clean, her hair smooth and soft and – indeed – blonde; another gave her a good coat. Her black eye disappeared, her old bruise faded. In a few quick minutes, before Draco had time to argue, they were walking down the sidewalk towards their flat; just a young married couple and their toddler.

**You're insane**, he said finally, because he had no more arguments.

**I know. So are you. **

He couldn't argue with that either.

* * *

Neville hesitated with his hand on the doorknob to his parents' room. He almost didn't want to go in, if his Gram was correct in saying that they were worse…

"Neville?" Meghan spoke softly by his side, making Neville look down at her. "I'm right here, okay?"

Neville nodded, swallowed tightly, then turned the knob and gently opened the door.

His parents were in their usual beds, but neither had the same look as they usually did. Normally his Mum would be up and about and trying to give him another bubblegum wrapper, while his Dad would be staring at the window.

Neville turned his head for a moment; he almost couldn't take it, seeing them lying so lifelessly on their beds. Meghan gave him a hug from behind, resting her head against his back for a moment, before pulling away. He took a deep breath and sat next to his Mum.

"Hey," he said softly, talking to them like he usually did, like they could hear, like somewhere inside their minds they could understand. "Gram says you aren't doing too well. I thought I'd come by and see you." He made a little motion for Meghan to come stand next to them, which she quickly did.

"This is Meghan," he continued. "She's my girlfriend. You'd like her a lot, Mum…"

"Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville looked up at the officious voice. "Yes?"

"My name is Healer Young. Could we speak outside for a moment?"

Neville nodded and stood, following the man out into the hall.

* * *

Aletha scrunched her brow in confusion as she stood in front of the gargoyle that guarded the Headmistress' office.

"Lionheart," she said to the stone creature, who nodded and leapt aside to allow her to step onto the rotating staircase. There were voices arguing within the office that she could hear through the wood before she knocked.

"Come in!" Minerva's muffled voice responded, and she pushed the door open.

Aletha's former Transfiguration teacher and Head of House stood with her hands on her hips, glaring ominously between the portrait of Dumbledore on the wall and a large scroll on the desk in front of her.

"You wanted to see me, Minerva?" Aletha asked.

Minerva nodded distractedly and waved a hand for her to take a seat, which she did. "Where is Meghan, Aletha?" the Headmistress asked.

"With Neville, visiting his parents in St. Mungo's. I gave her permission to go, if that's what you're worried about…"

"It's not," Minerva cut her off. "At Albus' prompting, I was studying Meghan's father's family tree."

Surprised, Aletha took a look at the scroll on the desk. It was, indeed, a copy of the Black family tree. "And?" she questioned when Minerva said no more.

"And were you aware that every woman on the Black family tree, with the exception of Walburga Black, Narcissa Black Malfoy, and Bellatrix Black Lestrange, was a Healer or had something to do with Healing?"

"I didn't," Aletha answered, still confused.

"And were you also unaware that the gift of the descendants of Ravenclaw is, in point of fact, the gift of natural Healing?"

"No, I knew that," Aletha answered slowly. "I read it in a book Remus got me for Christmas once."

Minerva opened her mouth but Albus cut her off, speaking so sharply and urgently that both women turned to look. "Aletha, get to St. Mungo's." His eyes were missing their usual twinkle.

Aletha hesitated.

"Now!" Albus said forcefully.

She ran.

* * *

In the semi-fluorescent lighting of the wizarding hospital, Neville could see Healer Young more clearly. The man was a contrast to his name: he was older, with more silver hair than anything else, and had lines on his face that proclaimed hardships. Wiry and straight-backed, he looked vaguely odd in the bright green Healer robes with the bone and wand emblem.

"I came because my Grandmother told me my parents were getting worse…" Neville began before Healer Young could speak.

Young nodded. "Both the mental and physical health of your parents are indeed declining," he said. "We have, of course, been continuing to supply them with a steady stream of potions and spell treatment, but it is my duty to tell you that those who slip to this level have a slim chance of returning. One of our Healers—Healer Tonks—developed a potion that almost seemed to pull them out of it entirely, but soon after, they fell into this state you see now and haven't come out."

Neville nodded tightly, trying not to think about that. "Why are you telling me this though? Why can't you just ask my Grandmother?"

"You turned seventeen over the summer, did you not?" Healer Young asked, waiting for Neville to nod before continuing. "Legally, that means you are in charge of your parents' affairs."

Neville hadn't even thought of those implications of his birthday.

"All right," he said slowly, still trying to wrap his mind around this new information. "But why has Gram brought me here?" Despite all appearances, Neville was positive that was what his grandmother had done.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Longbottom, you have a decision to make," Healer Young said heavily. "Because of the state the elder Longbottoms have slipped into, you can decide to continue with the potion and spell treatments, or stop them altogether."

Neville's heart and eyes hardened. "Stop the treatments? That would mean—"

"Yes," Healer Young said to the silent implications. "Eventually they would deteriorate even more, and then pass on."

"Can I have time to think about it?" Neville asked, his voice small.

Healer Young nodded, something akin to sympathy on his tough face. "Of course. It's a difficult decision to make."

Neville nodded and went back inside his parents' room, where Meghan was sitting next to his mother and talking quietly. She looked up as he came over.

"I was telling her about me," she informed him. "My Mum said that your Mum was my Dad's senior Auror mentor. I thought she might like to know about me…"

Neville smiled sadly at her, feeling hotness prick the back of his eyes. "She'd love you."

"What's wrong?" Meghan asked softly.

He sat in the chair next to her and lifted a hand to cover his eyes, taking a shaky breath. "I'm of age now. The Healer said they'll just continue to go in stages if we go on with the treatment. He gave me the option to stop the treatments."

He heard rather than saw Meghan's intake in breath. "That's a horrible decision to have to make!" she said angrily. "And about your own parents!"

_I know, but I still have to make it. _

He looked up and took his Mum's hand again. "What do you think, Mum?" he asked, a bit desperately. "What would you have wanted me to do? How am I supposed to know?"

"Neville?" His grandmother was beckoning to him, looking a bit guilty. Neville stood up again and followed her to the far side of the room.

"I assume the Healer told you of the state of things," his grandmother said stiffly, taking care not to look him in the eye.

She hadn't even warned him! Neville had never felt so angry at her in his life. "He did," he answered, his voice clipped.

"Are you to decide?" she asked finally.

"Yes. I don't know what I'm going to do," he admitted.

Augusta finally looked up. "Your parents would not have wanted you to suffer for them, Neville…"

He shook his head vigorously. "I don't think I can do that, Gran…"

His grandmother's eyes widened suddenly. Neville turned to see what had surprised her and stared. Meghan stood between the two beds holding the Longbottoms, a determined look on her face. She was—

_She can't be._

But she was—she was _glowing!_

She laid her hand over his father's hand, pressed down, and suddenly—abruptly—collapsed.

"Meghan!" Neville dashed across the space without thinking and grabbed her before she fell. The moment he touched her, he too collapsed, and they both, with Meghan still firmly gripping his father's hand, fell over his mother.

The last thing he remembered before his world went black was Miss Letha's voice screaming, "DON'T TOUCH THEM!"

_How did she get here? _he thought.

Then he forgot to think at all.


	7. The Changes

_I'm crazy. I'm insane. If it wasn't so nice being insane, I'd jump back into sanity, but no, I have no diving board._

Draco folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes tiredly.

"Of course you're insane," Luna said tiredly, rolling over to lay her head on his shoulder. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't."

"True. Aren't you tired? You spent the whole day working at the bookstore and it was packed; I know, I went to pick you up." He lifted a pale eyebrow at her.

"Exhausted," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Then why aren't you sleeping?"

Luna snuggled closer and finally sighed into a half-sleep mode. "You're thinking too loud."

"Terribly sorry, Your Highness. I'll be sure to quiet my thoughts next time." His voice was light and amused, but he may as well have been talking to air; Luna was already asleep.

Soon Draco was in that half-awake, half-dozing state that most people slip into when they're not _truly _tired, when a sound that didn't quite fit hit his ears. It was so out of place that it took a full minute for him to realize what he was hearing.

Crying—muffled, frightened crying.

A quick mental caress assured him that nothing was wrong with Luna, and he went up on his elbows at a small sound by the door. Irene stood illuminated in the moonlight, hiccupping and hugging her stuffed bear (a present from Ms. Bennett, who found the small blonde toddler absolutely adorable) tightly.

**Hey, **he prodded mentally. Luna mumbled and gave him the approximation of a mental 'Go away I'm _sleeping_' shove. **Hey! **he persisted. **Irene needs us.**

Well, _that _got her attention. She sat up so fast he had to dodge, her long hair whipping past his face.

"What's the matter, little owlet?" she questioned softly, locking eyes with the almost three year old and opening her arms. Irene dashed across the room like a rocket and flew into the hug, crying on Luna's comforting shoulder.

Draco scooted closer and reached over to rub her back comfortingly—if a bit awkwardly. "Was it a nightmare?" he asked softly.

Irene hiccupped and nodded into Luna's shirt.

"Okay."

Several seconds of silence followed, and then Luna administered a hard mental poke, her arms being currently full of toddler.

It took willpower to keep his yelp mental. **Ow! _What?_**

**Ask her what happened, Draco! _Men_, honestly. "Okay". **This was accompanied by a mental snort.

**Shush, you. I'm new at this.**

"What was it about?" he asked aloud, making sure to keep his voice low and soothing.

Irene hiccupped again and turned her head so she could look at him. "Dark," she lisped, just as quietly. "Scary." She lifted a small hand and wiped at her tears. "Sorry."

Draco felt a sudden rush of pity and anger—pity for Irene, anger at her life before this. And also a strange mixture of affection and tenderness—after all, how many times had he apologized for his nightmares as a child?

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said, softly but surely. A flash of inspiration made him go on without thinking. "Would you like to sleep with us tonight?"

Irene looked perplexed for a moment, as if this had never occurred to her, before nodding. Luna scooped her more firmly into her arms and placed her directly between herself and Draco, tucking her in firmly and being sure to kiss her on the forehead.

It wasn't until they were both asleep that Draco felt his eyelids drooping. With no one to see, he smiled at his girls with something he thought might be—maybe—possibly—love...

_Hey, I don't have to admit it to anyone. _

...before dropping off to sleep.

* * *

The fall was, Meghan decided, sort of like going into what she and Neville had dubbed the Hideaway, but also not. For instance, she had no idea what was at the bottom of this fall, or whether it would hurt her or not.

_Then again, very little hurts me, _she thought to herself with uncanny calm. It was true, after all. Even the normal scraped knees and cuts a child always acquired as they got into various mischief had healed up uncommonly quickly for her.

It was as she was musing on this that she hit the ground.

_Ow. That hurt like hell._

She dragged herself to her feet and rubbed at her eyes for a moment. All she saw was green—lots and lots of green.

_Great. I'm in the Slytherin common room. _Then she got a better look around and changed that opinion. _No, actually it's a jungle. Same difference, I guess._

Chuckling to herself, she grabbed a vine and pulled her body up. She was a little achy and a little unstable, but not much worse for wear.

_All right, let's start from the beginning and work forward. I went with Neville to see his parents, then his grandmother talked to him, then I grabbed his dad's hand, and now I'm...here. Interesting transition._

An inexplicable force was pulling her through the mess of plants and vegetation towards—what?

No, something wasn't right here. She knew that, as sure as she knew her eyes were grey.

The foliage proved to be relatively easy to make her way through without any kind of blade, even if it was a bit tangled, and so Meghan found herself pushing her way towards...wherever it was she was being pulled to.

* * *

Neville landed with a smack and a groan on something that was either very hard sand or very soft rock.

_Hard sand, _he decided when he pushed himself up and surveyed the area. _Rock is over there._ He got to his feet and went over to sit down on it. _But hard sand where, exactly?_

Meghan's voice floated through his mind unexpectedly; it was a memory of his, from when he had picked her brain about catatonia. She was surprisingly knowledgeable about anything to do with Healing, and had already expressed her desire to be a Healer.

"_When someone is put under the stress of extreme pain, Neville, they tend to draw into themselves. It's very complicated, but they form a barrier within their minds that protects them from the pain."_

_A barrier to protect them..._he mused, his eyes following a glowing blue line that hazed in and out as he thought. _Like a desert? Seems likely._

**Or a jungle?**

Neville jumped and looked around, only to realize a second later the voice had been inside his head. And very, very familiar.

**Meghan?**

**Neville?**

He dropped back down quickly before he fell, immensely glad he managed to sit where the rock was and not where it wasn't.

**How are you talking in my mind?** he asked hesitantly, making sure to think 'loudly'.

**The same way you're talking in mine, **she replied. Her 'voice' was shaky, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

**Har, har. Where are you? Are you in a desert too?**

**Desert? No, I'm in a jungle.**

Neville raised an eyebrow mentally and physically. **A jungle.**

**I meant what I said, and I said what I meant!**

**An elephant's faithful one hundred percent.**

Meghan's giggle resounded in his mind. **You know that? I thought it was a Muggle thing.**

**It _is _a Muggle thing, **he agreed. **A very amusing Muggle thing. So do you have a plan for this?**

**Keep walking forward until I fall off the edge.**

**Sounds like as good a plan as any.**

Neville followed her plan, realizing he had been feeling the same 'lure' as she had. They chatted amiably as they both walked. Somehow being able to talk to Meghan soothed the fear Neville had felt, as well as calming the excitement. Well, okay, not _all _of the excitement.

_I'm in my parents' minds, I'm in my parents' minds, I'm in my parents' minds..._

**You're thinking really loud, you're thinking really loud, you're thinking really loud...**

Since he couldn't find a suitable retort, he settled for sticking his mental tongue out at her.

Then his brain stopped thinking at all as he spotted a figure just feet away, sprawled on the desert floor, tracing nothing into the hard surface. His voice caught in his throat—he couldn't think, he couldn't breath...

**Yes you can, **Meghan's voice murmured reassuringly. **You'll be okay.**

Then he felt a palpable amount of surprise at her end. **What's the matter?**

**Nothing,** she answered after a moment. **Except I think I see your dad. Guess I shouldn't be surprised. I'm going to fade back for a bit, so let's not talk, okay? Good luck.**

**You too.**

And then he was alone. Well, not _alone_,per se. He could still 'feel' her presence in the back of his mind, warm and reassuring, but less strong than it had been.

It was at that moment that he tripped on a rock and landed flat on his face, effectively catching his mother's attention. She looked, he saw while scrambling to his feet, a great deal like himself. He supposed you didn't age in your mind like you did in your body.

"Who are you?" she asked, in a voice hoarse from disuse.

The truth might shock her and push he back, so he settled for reassuring. "Someone who's here to help. My name is Neville."

Her eyes misted over for a moment. "I had a son named Neville," she told him. Then her face closed down. "But he's dead."

**You are?**

**Oh, stop. I thought you weren't talking to me.**

**It's not every day you hear your boyfriend is dead.**

Neville closed his eyes—to avoid his mother seeing him rolling them—and when he opened them Meghan had gone back to being 'distant'.

"What are you doing here?" his mother asked after a moment. "How did you get across the desert? Nothing comes across the desert."

"I did," he reminded her simply. "Maybe that means you should just trust me and let me help."

Neville desperately wanted Meghan here beside him as his mother shook her head forcefully and backed a step away from him. She always seemed to know what to do or what to say...

**Not really. I'm having a hard time convincing your dad that I'm for real as well. And...brace yourself because this is weird.**

Neville sent her a mental picture of him sitting in a chair and holding on to the arms. **Okay, hit me.**

She did, a small mental smack to the back of his head. **I'm serious. I have the weirdest feeling that the jungle around me...wants to die. That it _needs _to die, and something is keeping it from letting go.**

Her words had sparked the exact expression for the niggling feeling he had felt for the past few minutes. **I have the same feeling about the desert! But it wants to live, and its like she's suppressing it.**

**Because they're afraid? Afraid of what might happen, or what they might wake up to if they let themselves come back?**

**I think so.**

He heard Meghan take a deep mental breath, and then his heart stopped at her next words.

**I think we can fix this, **she said.

His hands shook and he quickly shoved them in his pockets. **How?**

**My mom home-schooled me for a long time before we came to Hogwarts, and I had a really hard time getting the spells to work at first, mostly because I was a young kid and couldn't believe I could do it.**

**And...?**

**And my mom sat me down and told me that magic is just wanting something, and letting yourself have it.**

**So...?**

**I'm getting there! So maybe, just maybe, if we let loose our magic and really _want _the jungle to die and the desert to grow, it'll happen.**

**Worth a shot.**

He ignored the questioning look his mother was giving him as he opened his eyes again and knelt down, placing both hands flat on the desert floor. Then he did something he'd never done before: he _stopped _thinking about controlling his magic.

He wished, with all his heart, mind, and soul, for the desert to come to life.

It was like riding out an earthquake, or a tsunami. He heard a few unsteady footfalls as the ground shifted, and a moment later felt his mother's arms around him and heard her ask "What's happening?" But he didn't think he dared break his concentration to answer her—certainly not while Meghan was still concentrating on her end.

**It's working! **she yelled.

With those last words there was a great _shift_,and his elbows gave out from under him. He landed on soft grass, and looked up to see they were in a glade. Together, his and Meghan's magic had let the old jungle die and the desert sprout new life.

"Frank?"

Neville looked up to see his father standing just across the glade; both his parents were completely still as they looked at each other.

"Alice!"

And then they were in each other's arms, completely oblivious to the world.

"Hey." He glanced up at the soft, familiar voice to see Meghan crouched next to him, her hand on his arm, looking as worn out as he felt.

"Hey," he said back. "I think I'm going to go to sleep now."

"Sounds like a plan," she answered, and laid down next to him.

Regardless of where they were, they both fell asleep before Meghan's head even finished settling onto his shoulder.

* * *

Aletha cried out. Both children, after twenty full minutes of lying stock still on the beds, had suddenly slumped bonelessly. Her cry was echoed by others, but she got there first, Healing spells she thought she had forgotten on the tip of her wand as she checked their vitals.

"They're fine!" she called, to the relief of many. "I don't know what they just did, because their magical reserves are almost gone, but aside from that they're fine."

Healer Young checked them himself anyway, but eventually agreed with her and decreed it was okay to move them. Aletha gathered Meghan into her arms, noticing uneasily that the two braids framing her daughter's face were now a startling white, and laid her in a bed across from Alice. Healer Young followed, carrying Neville to the bed next to Meghan's, with Augusta Longbottom behind him.

"Will they be all right?" Mrs. Longbottom asked, putting a shaking finger to the white hair at her grandson's temple.

Aletha nodded. "They'll sleep for a while, but they should be fine."

"Who should be fine?" a voice asked.

"What's going on?" added a second voice. "Where are we?"

Everyone in the room seemed to stop breathing at the same time. Certainly all of them looked at the beds in the same moment. Frank and Alice Longbottom hadn't been fully awake or sane for going on sixteen years, yet here were both of them, were sitting up in bed and very much sane.

The Healer and nurses were shocked out of their wits, but that didn't stop them from launching into diagnostic after diagnostic. Mrs. Longbottom tried to hold her son and daughter-in-law at the same time, crying and explaining what happened to them between tears.

"Dear Merlin," Aletha breathed, gazing down at the unconscious children. "You Healed them. You dear, sweet children, you _Healed _them!"

No one heard her but Healer Young, who had come to relay that Frank and Alice wanted to see her, and he made up his mind right then and there never to say anything about it.

* * *

Luna woke up to the worst thing she could possibly imagine: a frightened, pain-filled scream. Thinking immediately it had to be Irene, she scooped up her foster daughter before her eyes were even open.

Irene clung to her, whimpering and shaking, and she realized that it wasn't the child at all. It was Draco.

His back was arched and his left arm was curled into his body like it was broken. His mouth was wide in silent screams and—when he opened his eyes to stare helplessly at her—they were dilated to the point where they were nothing but black pupil, only a little of the gray of his eyes showing.

"Run!" he managed to shout, and she realized his Dark Mark was literally burning a hole through his shirt.

Luna sprinted down the hall and into Irene's room. She dropped the shaking child gently on the bed, but Irene clutched at her shirt. "Stay?"

"Owlet," Luna said anxiously, "you have to stay here, okay?" She reached over and grabbed the lion she had bought Irene as a gift, that had made Draco scowl and glare half-heartedly at her. "Here, take Aslan, and keep holding Calli. Be brave, and don't try to get out, okay?"

Irene nodded, clutching her lion and bear as if her life depended on them. Luna ran back outside the room and closed the door, locking it and sealing it with a spell. Whatever happened, Irene was going to be safe.

She could _feel _Draco fighting at his end of their connection...

Suddenly she knew what she had to do.

In what might be both the bravest and the stupidest move of her life, she ran back to their bedroom.

* * *

He knew he was dreaming. The Dark Lord had come and scolded him—almost like a father scolding a child—for leaving. He had touched the Dark Mark on Draco's arm and said that Draco was _his _and that he couldn't run forever.

And then he had thrown himself into Draco's mind.

This was _nothing _like Luna's warm, comforting presence. This felt contaminated and horrible and made Draco want to vomit. He screamed as his Dark Mark lit on fire.

_Irene! Luna! They have to get out of here!_ he thought desperately, trying all the while to fight the Dark Lord's control, futile though he knew it was.

He opened his eyes to see Luna looking at him, horrified, with a trembling Irene in her arms.

"Run!" he managed to force out of his mouth.

And to his great relief, she did.

**_Think you can protect her, do you, boy?_** the Dark Lord hissed in his mind. **_Then perhaps it was wrong to have you torture her. Perhaps when I find you, I'll kill her slowly..._**

Draco struggled and cried out, to no avail. **You won't have her! **he screamed at the horrid-feeling presence. **I won't let you!**

The Dark Lord pulled back as if he'd been burned. **_Love! _**he screeched. **_You will die for this blasphemy, Draco!_**

Luna burst in at that moment, and horror shuddered through Draco's body. It spread as he felt the Dark Lord take control of his body and raise his hands.

**_Kill her,_** he ordered. **_Wrap your hands around her neck and strangle her._**

Luna stepped towards him and he wanted to cry out again, tell her to run far and fast, that he didn't have control anymore, but the Dark Lord was in complete control now and even their connection was faded.

He stepped towards her and grabbed her, tossing her to the floor even as Draco screamed mentally in defiance. The Dark Lord picked up Draco's wand with Draco's hand and aimed it at Luna. "_Avada—_"

Luna lifted her head, tears in her eyes, and her right hand flicked. "_Crucio_!"

Pain broke over him like a wave. The Dark Lord flinched, then laughed cruelly, pulling back just enough to allow Draco some control of his body—or, more likely, to ensure that only Draco would feel the pain. Draco heard himself scream, felt himself hit the floor, for a moment felt nothing at all, then felt Luna's lips on his and threw himself into the kiss with desperation—_it might be our last one..._

Then he realized what it meant that he'd been able to pull her closer, and the kiss deepened a little more as he went limp with relief. _She did it. It's over. Somehow, someway, she got him out..._

"I'm sorry," she sobbed when they broke apart, wrapping her arms around him. "I had to. It was the only way to get him to pull back enough."

"I understand," he murmured, holding her close, checking to make sure she was all right even as his mind put the pieces together. Luna had cast the Cruciatus so that the Dark Lord would pull back, then kissed him to drive the Dark Lord off. It had worked perfectly, too—the Dark Lord had pulled out of Draco's mind so fast that it felt as if he'd taken the back of Draco's head with him.

"Thank you," he said softly, still not letting her go. "Thank you. Thank you."

"Irene's all right," she said into his shoulder. "She's in her room. Want me to go get her?"

"We'll go together." Draco didn't want to be more than two feet away from her right now. He pulled her to her feet and kept hold of her hand like he never wanted to let go. Together, they went to get Irene who, upon seeing Draco, immediately threw herself at him. He grabbed her in a hug before she fell and she clung to his neck.

"Daddy okay?" she asked softly.

Draco was speechless for a moment.

**She called you Daddy, **Luna said warmly in his mind, and he basked in the familiar, comforting presence of her, instead of the horrifying one of Voldemort.

**I know,** he answered, his mental voice hesitant.

Irene turned to look at Luna. "Mommy, Daddy okay now?"

It was Luna's turn to look like she had been hit with a club.

Draco, though still shaken, couldn't miss this opportunity to tease her. **She called you Mommy.**

**I got that, thanks, **Luna snapped back, but with no real sting.

"Yeah," Draco told the toddler. "I'm okay now." He looked up and locked eyes with Luna, feeling a rush of warmth that chased away the final vestiges of cold fear. "I'm okay now. Who wants ice cream?"

Irene grinned, the scary experience forgotten with the rapidity only a child could manage, and ordered vanilla imperiously enough to make Draco laugh as the strange family made their way to the kitchen.

What had just happened was scary, but right now his life was okay. What would happen later, would happen later.

_Que sera sera. _What will be, will be.

* * *

_Little things the world will change, your lives and futures rearrange..._

* * *

A/n: Had you going there for a minute, didn't I::evil cackle:: Anyway, thanks to Anne Walsh AND MercuryBlue for beta-ing this chapter. Hopefully the next Cursed chapter will be up sometime next week. And the last line is Anne Walsh's.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. _  
_

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